Neither Do Thou Lust After That Tawny

All Discourses But My Own Afflict Me; They Seem Harsh, Impertinent, And Irksome

A New Disease? I Know Not, New Or Old, But It May Well Be Called Poor Mortals Plague For, Like A Pestilence, It Doth Infect The Houses Of The Brain Till Not A Thought, Or Motion, In The Mind, Be Free From The Black Poison Of Suspect.

Memory, Of All The Powers Of The Mind, Is The Most Delicate And Frail.

True Happiness Consists Not In The Multitude Of Friends, But In The Worth And Choice.

There Is No Bounty To Be Showed To Such As Have Real Goodness: Bounty Is A Spice Of Virtue; And What Virtuous Act Can Take Effect On Them That Have No Power Of Equal Habitude To Apprehend It?