I'll Make My Heaven In A Lady's

For 'tis The Sport To Have The Engineerhoist With His Own Petard.

Virtue Itself Scapes Not Calumnious Strokes.

Covering Discretion With A Coat Of Folly.

I Praise God For You, Sir: Your Reasons At Dinner Have Been Sharp And Sententious; Pleasant Without Scurrility, Witty Without Affectation, Audacious Without Impudency, Learned Without Opinion, And Strange With-out Heresy.

You May My Glories And My State Depose, But Not My Griefes; Still Am I King Of Those.