Custom Is The Most Certain

Soul Of The Age! The Applause, Delight, The Wonder Of Our Stage! My Shakespeare , Rise; I Will Not Lodge Thee By Chaucer Or Spenser , Or Bid Beaumont Lie A Little Further, To Make Thee A Room; Thou Art A Monument, Without A Tomb, And Art Alive Still, While Thy Book Doth Live, And We Have Wits To Read , And Praise To Give .

Money Never Made Any Man Rich, But His Mind. He That Can Order Himself To The Law Of Nature, Is Not Only Without The Sense, But The Fear Of Poverty.

It Is An Art To Have So Much Judgment As To Apparel A Lie Well, To Give It A Good Dressing.

Popular Men, They Must Create Strange Monsters, And Then Quell Them, To Make Their Arts Seem Something.

The World Knows Only Two, That's Rome And I.