Be Not Afraid Of Greatness.

The Violence Of Either Grief Or Joy, Their Own Enactures With Themselves Destroy.

The Pleasant'st Angling Is To See The Fish Cut With Her Golden Oars The Silver Stream And Greedily Devour The Treacherous Bait.

You'd Be So Lean, That Blast Of January Would Blow You Through And Through. Now, My Fair'st Friend, I Would I Had Some Flowers O' The Spring That Might Become Your Time Of Day.

In Love The Heavens Themselves Do Guide The State; Money Buys Lands, And Wives Are Sold By Fate.

Assume A Virtue, If You Have It Not. That Monster, Custom, Who All Sense Doth Eat, Of Habits Devil, Is Angel Yet In This, That To The Use Of Actions Fair And Good He Likewise Gives A Frock Or Livery That Aptly Is Put On. Refrain Tonight, And That Shall Lend A Kind Of Easiness To The Next Abstinence; The Next More Easy; For Use Almost Can Change The Stamp Of Nature.