He That Hath No Cross Deserves No

Thy Pride Is But The Prologue Of Thy Shame; Where Vain-glory Commands, There Folly Counsels; Where Pride Rides, There Shame Lackeys.

Proportion Thy Charity To The Strength Of Thine Estate, Lest God Proportion Thine Estate To The Weakness Of Thy Charity. Let The Lips Of The Poor Be The Trumpet Of Thy Gift, Lest In Seeking Applause, Thou Lose Thy Reward. Nothing Is More Pleasing To God Than An Open Hand And A Closed Mouth.

Neutrality Is Dangerous, Whereby Thou Becomest A Necessary Prey To The Conqueror.

Reason Can Discover Things Only Near,--sees Nothing That's Above Her.

See How The World (whose Chaste And Pregnant Womb Of Late Conceiv'd, And Brought Forth Nothing Ill) Is Now Degenerated, And Become A Base Adult'ress, Whose False Births Do Fill The Earth With Monsters, Monsters That Do Roam And Rage About, And Make A Trade To Kill: Now Glutt'ny Paunches, And Avarice A Pawn; Pale Envy Pines, Pride Swells, And Sloth Begins To Yawn.