If Men Are Wont To Play With

Virtue Is Not A Mushroom, That Springeth Up Of Itself In One Night When We Are Asleep, Or Regard It Not; But A Delicate Plant, That Groweth Slowly And Tenderly, Needing Much Pains To Cultivate It, Much Care To Guard It, Much Time To Mature It, In Our Untoward Soil, In This World's Unkindly Weather.

He Who Loveth A Book Will Never Want A Faithful Friend, A Wholesome Counsellor, A Cheerful Companion, Or An Effectual Comforter.

No Man Speaketh, Or Should Speak, Of His Prince, That Which He Hath Not Weighed Whether It Will Consist With That Veneration Which Should Be Preserved Inviolate To Him.

Every Ear Is Tickled With The Sweet Music Of Applause.

He That Loveth A Book Will Never Want A Faithful Friend, A Wholesome Counsellor, A Cheerful Companion, An Effectual Comforter. By Study, By Reading, By Thinking, One May Innocently Divert And Pleasantly Entertain Himself, As In All Weathers, So In All Fortunes.