Ambition, In A Private Man Is A

Giants In Their Promises, But Those Obtained, Weak Pigmies In Their Performance.

As The Index Tells Us The Contents Of Stories And Directs To The Particular Chapter, Even So Does The Outward Habit And Superficial Order Of Garments (in Man Or Woman) Give Us A Taste Of The Spirit, And Demonstratively Point (as It Were A Manual Note From The Margin) All The Internal Quality Of The Soul; And There Cannot Be A More Evident, Palpable, Gross Manifestation Of Poor, Degenerate, Dunghilly Blood And Breeding Than A Rude, Unpolished, Disordered, And Slovenly Outside.

Honour Is Virtue's Allowed Ascent: Honour That Clasps All Perfect Justice In Her Arms; That Craves No More Respect Than That She Gives; That Does Nothing But What She'll Suffer.

I Had Not To This Time Subsisted, But That I Was Supported By Your Frequent Courtesies And Favours.

Like A Rough Orator, That Brings More Truth Than Rhetoric, To Make Good His Accusation.