Money Never Made Any Man Rich, But

Tis No Sin Love's Fruits To Steal; But The Sweet Thefts To Reveal; To Be Taken, To Be Seen, These Have Crimes Accounted Been.

It Is Virtue That Gives Glory; That Will Endenizen A Man Everywhere.

No Glass Renders A Man's Form Or Likeness So True As His Speech.

That Praises Are Without Reason Lavished On The Dead, And That The Honours Due Only To Are Paid To Antiquity, Is A Complaint Likely To Be Always Continued By Those Who, Being Able To Add Nothing To Truth, Hope For Eminence From The Heresies Of Paradox; Or Those Who, Being Forced By Disappointment Upon Consolatory Expedients, Are Willing To Hope From Posterity What The Present Age Refuses, And Flatter Themselves That The Regard Which Is Yet Denied By Envy Will Be At Last Bestowed By Time.

All Discourses But My Own Afflict Me; They Seem Harsh, Impertinent, And Irksome