A Hatt Is Not Made For One

No Profit To Honour, No Honour To Religion.

Who Hath No Hast In His Businesse, Mountaines To Him Seeme Valleys.

It's A Proud Horse That Will Not Carry His Owne Provender.

The Dark Grave, Which Knows All Secrets, Can Alone Reclaim The Fatal Doubt Once Cast On A Woman's Name.

By All Means Use Sometimes To Be Alone. Salute Thyself: See What Thy Soul Doth Wear. Dare To Look In Thy Chest; For 'tis Thine Own: And Tumble Up And Down What Thou Findst There. Who Cannot Rest Till He Good Fellows Find, He Breaks Up House, Turns Out Of Doors His Mind.