Thou Art Figured Blind, And Yet We

Pleasures Of Worse Natures Are Gladly Entertained, And They That Shun Us Practice In Private Sports The Stews Would Blush At.

As The Index Tells Us The Contents Of Stories And Directs To The Particular Chapter, Even So Does The Outward Habit And Superficial Order Of Garments (in Man Or Woman) Give Us A Taste Of The Spirit, And Demonstratively Point (as It Were A Manual Note From The Margin) All The Internal Quality Of The Soul; And There Cannot Be A More Evident, Palpable, Gross Manifestation Of Poor, Degenerate, Dunghilly Blood And Breeding Than A Rude, Unpolished, Disordered, And Slovenly Outside.

Nay, Droop Not, Fellows; Innocence Should Be Bold.

Conscience And Wealth Are Not Always Neighbors.

I Had Not To This Time Subsisted, But That I Was Supported By Your Frequent Courtesies And Favours.