Fortune, Thou Hadst No Deity, If Men

Success Produces Confidence; Confidence Relaxes Industry, And Negligence Ruins The Reputation Which Accuracy Had Raised.

A New Disease? I Know Not, New Or Old, But It May Well Be Called Poor Mortals Plague For, Like A Pestilence, It Doth Infect The Houses Of The Brain Till Not A Thought, Or Motion, In The Mind, Be Free From The Black Poison Of Suspect.

No Man Is So Foolish But May Give Another Good Counsel Sometimes; And No Man Is So Wise, But May Easily Err, If He Will Take No Others Counsel But His Own. But Very Few Men Are Wise By Their Own Counsel; Or Learned By Their Own Teaching. For He That Was Only Taught By Himself Had A Fool To His Master.

Sweet Meat Must Have Sour Sauce.

Poor Worms, They Hiss At Me, Whilst I At Home Can Be Contented To Applaud Myself, . . . With Joy To See How Plump My Bags Are And My Barns.