O Me, You Juggler, You Canker-blossom, You

We Must Not Stint Our Necessary Actions In The Fear To Cope Malicious Censurers, Which Ever, As Rav'nous Fishes, Do A Vessel Follow That Is New-trimmed, But Benefit No Further Than Vainly Longing.

I Would With Such Perfection Govern, Sir, T'excel The Golden Age.

I Am Not Only Witty In Myself, But The Cause That Wit Is In Other Men.

Look Like The Innocent Flower, But Be The Serpent Under It.

You Must Confine Yourself Within The Modest Limits Of Order.