We Live By Reposing Trust In Each

There Is An Herb Named In Latine Convolvulus (i.e. With Wind), Growing Among Shrubs And Bushes, With Carrieth A Flower Not Unlike To This Lilly, Save That It Yeeldeth No Smell Nor Hath Those Chives Within; For Whitenesse They Resemble One Another Very Much, As If Nature In Making This Floure Were A Learning And Trying Her Skill How To Frame The Lilly Indeed.

The Most Disgraceful Cause Of The Scarcity [of Remedies] Is That Even Those Who Know Them Do Not Want To Point Them Out, As If They Were Going To Lose What They Pass On To Others.

Lust Is An Enemy To The Purse, A Foe To The Person, A Canker To The Mind, A Corrosive To The Conscience, A Weakness Of The Wit, A Besotter Of The Senses, And Finally, A Mortal Bane To All The Body.

Better Do Nothing Than Do Ill.

To Laugh, If But For An Instant Only, Has Never Been Granted To Man Before The Fortieth Day From His Birth, And Then It Is Looked Upon As A Miracle Of Precocity.