Order Is The Greatest Grace.

The Soft Complaining Flute, In Dying Notes, Discovers The Woes Of Hopeless Lovers.

Interest Makes All Seem Reason That Leads To It.

Bold Knaves Thrive Without One Grain Of Sense, But Good Men Starve For Want Of Impudence.

But Shakespeare's Magic Could Not Copied Be; Within That Circle None Durst Walk But He.

I Am Reading Jonson's Verses To The Memory Of Shakespeare; An Insolent, Sparing, And Invidious Panegyric.