How Ready Is Heaven To Those That

Wine It Is The Milk Of Venus, And The Poet's Horse Accounted: Ply It And You All Are Mounted.

Language Most Shows A Man, Speak That I May See Thee.

Thy Praise Or Dispraise Is To Me Alike; One Doth Not Stroke Me, Nor The Other Strike.

Great Honours Are Great Burdens, But On Whom They Are Cast With Envy, He Doth Bear Two Loads.

Honor's A Good Brooch To Wear In A Man's Hat At All Times.