Kings that made laws, first broke 'em.
Come away; poverty's catching.
Jealousy, the old worm that bites.
One hour of right-down love is worth an age of dully living on.
Here lies a Proof that Wit can never be Defence enough against Mortality
All I ask, is the privilege for my masculine part the poet in me.... If I must not, because of my sex, have this freedom... I lay down my quill and you shall hear no more of me.