Many Might Go To Heaven With Half

Still To Be Neat, Still To Be Drest, As You Were Going To A Feast, Still To Be Powder'd, All Perfum'd. Lady, It Is To Be Presumed, Though Art's Hid Causes Are Not Found, All Is Not Sweet, All Is Not Sound.

I Am Beholden To Calumny, That She Hath So Endeavored To Belie Me.-it Shall Make Me Set A Surer Guard On Myself, And Keep A Better Watch Upon My Actions.

He That Departs With His Own Honesty For Vulgar , Doth It Too Dearly Buy.

Let Those That Merely Talk And Never Think, That Live In The Wild Anarchy Of Drink

Money Never Made Any Man Rich, But His Mind. He That Can Order Himself To The Law Of Nature, Is Not Only Without The Sense, But The Fear Of Poverty.