Enough 's As Good As A Feast.

Blood, Though It Sleep A Time, Yet Never Dies. The Gods On Murtherers Fix Revengeful Eyes.

Promise Is Most Given When The Least Is Said.

He That Shuns Trifles Must Shun The World.

And For The Authentical Truth Of Either Person Or Actions, Who (worth The Respecting) Will Expect It In A Poem, Whose Subject Is Not Truth, But Things Like Truth? Poor Envious Souls They Are That Cavil At Truth's Want In These Natural Fictions; Material Instruction, Elegant And Sententious Excitation To Virtue, And Deflection From Her Contrary, Being The Soul, Limbs, And Limits Of An Authentical Tragedy.

Who To Himself Is Law No Law Doth Need; Offends None And Is King Indeed.