Sir, In My Heart There Was A

If It Be A Sin To Covet Honor, I Am The Most Offending Soul.

But Earthlier Happy Is The Rose Distill'd Than That Which Withering On The Virgin Thorn Grows, Lives, And Dies In Single Blessedness.

Some Grief Shows Much Of Love, But Much Of Grief Shows Still Some Want Of Wit.

Defer No Time, Delays Have Dangerous Ends.

No Man's Pie Is Freed From His Ambitious Finger.