Honour Is Purchas'd By The Deeds We

The Griefs Of Private Men Are Soon Allayed, But Not Of Kings.

Cut Is The Branch That Might Have Grown Full Straight, And Burned Is Apollo's Laurel Bough, That Sometime Grew Within This Learned Man. Faustus Is Gone.

You Must Be Proud, Bold, Pleasant, Resolute, And Now And Then Stab, As Occasion Serves.

Excess Of Wealth Is Cause Of Covetousness.

My Men Like Satyrs Grazing On The Lawns, / Shall With Their Goat-feet Dance An Antic Hay.