Be Patient, For The World Is Broad

Heaven Would That She These Gifts Should Have, And I To Live And Die Her Slave.

Lord, Lord, How Subject We Old Men Are To This Vice Of Lying!

By Jove, I Am Not Covetous For Gold, Nor Care I Who Doth Feed Upon My Cost; It Yearns Me Not If Me My Garments Wear; Such Outward Things Dwell Not In My Desires: But If It Be A Sin To Covet Honor, I Am The Most Offending Soul Alive.

All His Successors Gone Before Him Have Done 't; And All His Ancestors That Come After Him May.

Have You Not Heard It Said Full Oft, A Woman's Nay Doth Stand For Naught?