Well, As He Brews, So Shall He

That I Might Live Alone Once With My Gold! O, 'tis A Sweet Companion! Kind And True: A Man May Trust It When His Father Cheats Him, Brother, Or Friend, Or Wife. O Wondrous Pelf! That Which Makes All Men False, Is True Itself.

That Praises Are Without Reason Lavished On The Dead, And That The Honours Due Only To Are Paid To Antiquity, Is A Complaint Likely To Be Always Continued By Those Who, Being Able To Add Nothing To Truth, Hope For Eminence From The Heresies Of Paradox; Or Those Who, Being Forced By Disappointment Upon Consolatory Expedients, Are Willing To Hope From Posterity What The Present Age Refuses, And Flatter Themselves That The Regard Which Is Yet Denied By Envy Will Be At Last Bestowed By Time.

Still May Syllables Jar With Time, Still May Reason War With Rhyme, Resting Never!

Out Of Clothes Out Of Countenance, Out Of Countenance Out Of Wit.

Many Punishments Sometimes, And In Some Cases, As Much Discredit A Prince As Many Funerals A Physician.