Highly Fed And Lowly Taught.

Every Inordinate Cup Is Unbless'd, And The Ingredient Is A Devil.

The Evil That Men Do Lives After Them; The Good Is Oft Interred With Their Bones.

I Shall Show The Cinders Of My Spirits Through The Ashes Of My Chance.

Some Innocents 'scape Not The Thunderbolt.

Let's Take The Instant By The Forward Top; For We Are Old, And On Our Quick'st Decrees The Inaudible And Noiseless Foot Of Time Steals Ere We Can Effect Them.