In Limited Professions There's Boundless Theft.

What Man Art Thou That, Thus Bescreened In Night, So Stumblest On My Counsel? *who Are You? Why Do You Hide In The Darkness And Listen To My Private Thoughts?*

You May My Glories And My State Depose, But Not My Griefes; Still Am I King Of Those.

No Worse A Husband Than The Best Of Men.

But No Perfection Is So Absolute, That Some Impurity Doth Not Pollute.

An Arrant Traitor As Any Is In The Universal World, Or In France, Or In England.