What Excellent Fools Religion Makes Of Men.

Good Men But See Death, The Wicked Taste It.

O! How Vain And Vile A Passion Is This Fear! What Base Uncomely Things It Makes Men Do.

Opinion Is A Light, Vain, Crude, And Imperfect Thing.

Poor Worms, They Hiss At Me, Whilst I At Home Can Be Contented To Applaud Myself, . . . With Joy To See How Plump My Bags Are And My Barns.

It Is The Highest Of Earthly Honors To Be Descended From The Great And Good. They Alone Cry Out Against A Noble Ancestry Who Have None Of Their Own.