Your Highest Female Grace Is Silence.

Memory, Of All The Powers Of The Mind, Is The Most Delicate And Frail.

Language Most Shows A Man; Speak That I May See Thee; It Springs Out Of The Most Retired And Inmost Parts Of Us, And Is The Image Of The Parent Of It, The Mind. No Glass Renders A Man's Form Or Likeness So True As His Speech.

Still To Be Neat, Still To Be Drest, As You Were Going To A Feast, Still To Be Powder'd, All Perfum'd. Lady, It Is To Be Presumed, Though Art's Hid Causes Are Not Found, All Is Not Sweet, All Is Not Sound.

If All You Boast Of Your Great Art Be True; Sure, Willing Poverty Lives Most In You.

A Good Life Is A Main Argument.