Tis The Common Disease Of All Your

Guilt's A Terrible Thing.

Tis No Sin Love's Fruits To Steal; But The Sweet Thefts To Reveal; To Be Taken, To Be Seen, These Have Crimes Accounted Been.

The Man That Is Once Hated, Both His Good And His Evil Deeds Oppress Him.

Fortune, That Favors Fools.

Each Petty Hand Can Steer A Ship Becalm'd; But He That Will Govern And Carry Her To Her Ends, Must Know His Tides, His Currents, How To Shift His Sails; What She Will Bear In Foul, What In Fair Weathers; Where Her Springs Are, Her Leaks, And How To Stop 'em; What Strands, What Shelves, What Rocks Do Threaten Her.