My Thoughts And I Were Of Another

O! How Vain And Vile A Passion Is This Fear! What Base Uncomely Things It Makes Men Do.

You Are Not Now To Think What's Best To Do, As In Beginnings, But What Must Be Done, Being Thus Enter'd; And Slip No Advantage That May Secure You. Let Them Call It Mischief; When It Is Past, And Prosper'd , 'twill Be Virtue.

I Glory, More In The Cunning Purchase Of My Wealth Than In The Glad Possession.

I Know No Disease Of The Soul But Ignorance, A Pernicious Evil, The Darkener Of Man's Life, The Disturber Of His Reason, And Common Confounder Of Truth.

Where It Concerns Himself, Who's Angry At A Slander, Makes It True.