The World Knows Only Two, That's Rome

Our Whole Life Is Like A Play.

Memory, Of All The Powers Of The Mind, Is The Most Delicate And Frail.

Language Most Shows A Man, Speak That I May See Thee.

It Is An Art To Have So Much Judgment As To Apparel A Lie Well, To Give It A Good Dressing.

Greatness Of Name, In The Father, Ofttimes Helps Not Forth, But Overwhelms The Son: They Stand Too Near One Another. The Shadow Kills The Growth.