Every Man Has His Fault, And Honesty

I'll Take Thy Word For Faith, Not Ask Thine Oath; Who Shuns Not To Break One Will Sure Crack Both.

Graze On My Lips; And If Those Hills Be Dry, Stray Lower, Where The Pleasant Fountains Lie.

O Heresy In Fair, Fit For These Days, A Giving Hand, Though Foul, Shall Have Fair Praise.

He That Loves To Be Flattered Is Worthy O' The Flatterer.

Nor Aught So Good But Strained From That Fair Use, Revolts From True Birth Stumbling On Abuse.