I Wish You Well And So I

Where Art Thou, Muse, That Thou Forget'st So Long / To Speak Of That Which Gives Thee All Thy Might?

How Poor Are They That Have Have Not Patients.

No, No; 'tis All Men's Office To Speak Patience To Those That Wring Under The Load Of Sorrow, But No Man's Virtue Nor Sufficiency To Be So Moral When He Shall Endure The Like Himself. Therefore Give Me No Counsel: My Griefs Cry Louder Than Advertisement.

For Conspiracy, I Know Not How It Tastes, Though It Be Dished For Me To Try How.

The Icy Precepts Of Respect.