Revenge, That Thirsty Dropsy Of Our Souls,

We Have Not An Hour Of Life In Which Our Pleasures Relish Not Some Pain, Our Sours, Some Sweetness.

They Are Only Safe That Know To Soothe The Prince's Appetite, And Serve His Lusts.

0 Summer Friendship, Whose Flat-tering Leaves Shadowed Us In Our Prosperity, With The Least Gust, Drop Off In The Autumn Of Adversity.

For Any Man To Match Above His Rank Is But To Sell His Liberty.

Man Was Mark'd A Friend In His Creation To Himself, And May, With Fit Ambition, Conceive The Greatest Blessings, And The Highest Honors Appointed For Him, If He Can Achieve Them The Right And Noble Way.