I Have Play'd The Fool, The Gross

Tis The Only Discipline We Are Born For; All Studies Else Are But As Circular Lines, And Death The Center Where They All Must Meet.

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

I Had Not To This Time Subsisted, But That I Was Supported By Your Frequent Courtesies And Favours.

One Grain Of Incense With Devotion Offer'd 's Beyond All Perfumes Of Sabaean Spices.

Man Was Mark'd A Friend In His Creation To Himself, And May, With Fit Ambition, Conceive The Greatest Blessings, And The Highest Honors Appointed For Him, If He Can Achieve Them The Right And Noble Way.