Men Prize The Thing Ungained More Than

I Have Thrust Myself Into This Maze, Haply To Wive And Thrive As Best I May.

Roses Have Thorns, And Silver Fountains Mud; Clouds And Eclipses Stain Both Moon And Sun, And Loathsome Canker Lies In Sweetest Bud. All Men Make Faults.

Pardon's The Word To All.

Thriftless Ambition, That Wilt Ravin Up Thine Own Life's Means!

We Must Not Make A Scarecrow Of The Law, Setting It Up To Fear The Birds Of Prey, And Let It Keep One Shape Till Custom Make It Their Perch, And Not Their Terror.