Good Is The Mora That Makes All

An Ill Labourer Quarrells With His Tooles.

Sorrow Was All My Soul; I Scarce Believed, Till Grief Did Tell Me Roundly, That I Lived.

Hee That Should Have What Hee Hath Not, Should Doe What He Doth Not.

Be Not Too Presumptuously Sure In Any Business; For Things Of This World Depend On Such A Train Of Unseen Chances That If It Were In Man's Hands To Set The Tables, Still He Would Not Be Certain To Win The Game.

The Philosophy Of Princes Is To Dive Into The Secrets Of Men, Leaving The Secrets Of Nature To Those That Have Spare Time.