The End Of All Knowledge Should Be

To Be Rhymed To Death As Is Said To Be Done In Ireland.

All Is But Lip-wisdom Which Wants Experience.

Sin Is The Mother, And Shame The Daughter Of Lewdness.

In Forming A Judgment, Lay Your Hearts Void Of Foretaken Opinions; Else, Whatsoever Is Done Or Said, Will Be Measured By A Wrong Rule; Like Them Who Have Jaundice, To Whom Everything Appears Yellow.

What Is Mine, Even To My Life, Is Hers I Love; But The Secret Of My Friend Is Not Mine!