In Limited Professions There's Boundless Theft.

How Much Salt Water Thrown Away In Waste/ To Season Love, That Of It Doth Not Taste.

Thou Art The Mars Of Malcontents.

Where Civil Blood Makes Civil Hands Unclean

Let None Presume To Wear An Undeserved Dignity. O That Estates, Degrees, And Offices Were Not Derived Corruptly, And That Clear Honour Were Purchased By The Merit Of The Wearer!

When Words Are Scarce They Are Seldom Spent In Vain.