Death Hath A Thousand Doors To Let

Virtue, Thou In Rags, May Challenge More Than Vice Set Off With All The Trim Of Greatness.

Such As Ne'er Saw Swans May Think Crows Beautiful.

Pleasures Of Worse Natures Are Gladly Entertained, And They That Shun Us Practice In Private Sports The Stews Would Blush At.

Revenge, That Thirsty Dropsy Of Our Souls, Makes Us Covet That Which Hurts Us Most.

Black Detraction Will Find Faults Where They Are Not.