If You Be Sick, Your Own Thoughts

A Prince Without Letters Is A Pilot Without Eyes. All His Government Is Groping.

How Near To Good Is What Is Fair!

Tis The Common Disease Of All Your Musicians That They Know No Mean, To Be Entreated, Either To Begin Or End.

The Man That Is Once Hated, Both His Good And His Evil Deeds Oppress Him.

Custom Is The Most Certain Mistress Of Language, As The Public Stamp Makes The Current Money.