How Near To Good Is What Is

To The Old, Long Life And Treasure; To The Young, All Health And Pleasure.

I Now Think, Love Is Rather Deaf, Than Blind, For Else It Could Not Be, That She, Whom I Adore So Much, Should So Slight Me, And Cast My Love Behind.

I See Compassion May Become A Justice, Though It Be A Weakness, I Confess, And Nearer A Vice Than A Virtue.

Popular Men, They Must Create Strange Monsters, And Then Quell Them, To Make Their Arts Seem Something.

It Is Less Dishonor To Hear Imperfectly Than To Speak Imperfectly. The Ears Are Excused; The Understanding Is Not.