Our reason is our law.
Till old experience do attain To something like prophetic strain.
On the tawny sands and shelves trip the pert fairies and the dapper elves.
Revenge, at first though sweet, Bitter ere long back on itself recoils.
Yet hold it more humane, more heav'nly, first, By winning words to conquer willing hearts, And make persuasion do the work of fear.
Dark with excessive bright.