Poets Are Far Rarer Birds Than Kings.

Many Punishments Sometimes, And In Some Cases, As Much Discredit A Prince As Many Funerals A Physician.

Folly Often Goes Beyond Her Bounds, But Impudence Knows None.

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.

Well, I Will Scourge Those Apes, And To These Courteous Eyes Oppose A Mirror, As Large As Is The Stage Whereon We Act; Where They Shall See The Time's Deformity Anatomised In Every Nerve, And Sinew, With Constant Courage, And Contempt Of Fear.

A Good King Is A Public Servant.