You forget too much That every creature, female as the male, Stands single in responsible act and thought As also in birth and death.

A worthless woman! mere cold clay As all false things are! but so fair, She takes the breath of men away Who gaze upon her unaware: I would not play her larcenous tricks To have her looks!

World's use is cold, world's love is vain, world's cruelty is bitter bane; but is not the fruit of pain.

For tis not in mere death that men die most.

The beautiful seems right by force of beauty and the feeble wrong because of weakness.

He said true things, but called them by wrong names.