As The Fertilest Ground, Must

The Lightsome Countenance Of A Friend Giveth Such An Inward Decking To The House Where It Lodgeth, As Proudest Palaces Have Cause To Envy The Gilding.

Solitude, The Sly Enemy That Doth Separate A Man From Well-doing.

The Heavens Do Not Send Good Haps In Handfuls; But Let Us Pick Out Our Good By Little, And With Care, From Out Much Bad, That Still Our Little World May Know Its King.

There Have Been Many Most Excellent Poets That Have Never Versified, And Now Swarm Many Versifiers That Need Never Answer To The Name Of Poets.

What Doth Better Become Wisdom Than To Discern What Is Worthy The Living.