To Be Content With Death

It Is The Common Wonder Of All Men, How Among So Many Million Faces, There Should Be None Alike.

Had Not Almost Every Man Suffered By The Press, Or Were Not The Tyranny Thereof Become Universal, I Had Not Wanted Reason For Complaint.

Men Live By Intervals Of Reason Under The Sovereignty Of Humor And Passion.

Age Doth Not Rectify, But Incurvate Our Natures, Turning Bad Dispositions Into Worser Habits.

Gold Once Out Of The Earth Is No More Due Unto It; What Was Unreasonably Committed To The Ground, Is Reasonably Resumed From It; Let Monuments And Rich Fabricks, Not Riches, Adorn Men's Ashes.