By Flatterers Besieged And So Obliging That

Fool, 'tis In Vain From Wit To Wit To Roam: Know, Sense, Like Charity, Begins At Home.

Pride Is Still Aiming At The Best Houses: Men Would Be Angels, Angels Would Be Gods. Aspiring To Be Gods, If Angels Fell; Aspiring To Be Angels Men Rebel.

Is Not Absence Death To Those Who Love?

There Is A Certain Majesty In Simplicity Which Is Far Above All The Quaintness Of Wit.

While I Live, No Rich Or Noble Knave Shall Walk The World In Credit To His Grave.