Virtue Itself Scapes Not Calumnious Strokes.

Let Us, Like Merchants, Show Our Foulest Wares, And Think Perchance They'll Sell; If Not, The Lustre Of The Better Yet To Show Shall Show The Better.

Though Fortune's Malice Overthrow My State, My Mind Exceeds The Compass Of Her Wheel.

Hear My Soul Speak. Of The Very Instant That I Saw You, Did My Heart Fly At Your Service

When The Mind's Free, The Body's Delicate.

But Now Behold, In The Quick Forge And Working-house Of Thought, How London Doth Pour Out Her Citizens!