Your Highest Female Grace Is Silence.

Force Works On Servile Natures, Not The Free.

Forbear, You Things That Stand Upon The Pinnacles Of State, To Boast Your Slippery Height! When You Do Fall, You Dash Yourselves In Pieces, Ne'er To Rise: And He That Lends You Pity, Is Not Wise.

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

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

I Have Been At My Book; And Am Now Past The Craggy Paths Of Study, And Come To The Flowery Plains Of Honour And Reputation