And Ruin`d Love When It Is Built

So Well Thy Words Become Thee As Thy Wounds.

I Must Be Cruel Only To Be Kind; Thus Bad Begins, And Worse Remains Behind.

In The Modesty Of Fearful Duty, I Read As Much As From The Rattling Tongue Of Saucy And Audacious Eloquence.

Yet Do I Fear Thy Nature; It Is Too Full O' The Milk Of Human Kindness To Catch The Nearest Way: Thou Wouldst Be Great; Art Not Without Ambition, But Without The Illness Should Attend It: What Thou Wouldst Highly, That Wouldst Thou Holily; Wouldst Not Play False, And Yet Wouldst Wrongly Win.

I Can Hardly Forbear Hurling Things At Him.