For Any Man To Match

Ambition, In A Private Man Is A Vice, Is In A Prince The Virtue.

Great Men, Till They Have Gained Their Ends, Are Giants In Their Promises, But, Those Obtained, Weak Pigmies In Their Performance. And It Is A Maxim Allowed Among Them, So They May Deceive, They May Swear Anything; For The Queen Of Love, As They Hold Constantly, Does Never Punish, But Smile, At Lovers' Perjuries.

The Soul Is Strong That Trusts In Goodness.

Tis The Only Discipline We Are Born For; All Studies Else Are But As Circular Lines, And Death The Center Where They All Must Meet.

We Have Not An Hour Of Life In Which Our Pleasures Relish Not Some Pain, Our Sours, Some Sweetness.