'tis Better To Bear The Ills We

The Words Of Mercury Are Harsh After The Songs Of Apollo.

Our Very Eyes Are Sometimes, Like Our Judgments, Blind.

By Innocence I Swear, And By My Youth, I Have One Heart, One Bosom, And One Truth, And That No Woman Has, Nor Never None Shall Mistress Be Of It Save I Alone.

Thou Art All The Comfort, The Gods Will Diet Me With.

Grace And Remembrance Be To You Both.