In Short, Virtue Cannot Live Where Envy

The Road To The Inn Is Much Better Than The Stay.

Fortune Leaves Always Some Door Open To Come At A Remedy.

Once A Woman Parts With Her Virtue, She Loses The Esteem Even Of The Man Whose Vows And Tears Won Her To Abandon It.

To Think That The Affairs Of This Life Always Remain In The Same State Is A Vain Presumption; Indeed They All Seem To Be Perpetually Changing And Moving In A Circular Course. Spring Is Followed By Summer, Summer By Autumn, And Autumn By Winter, Which Is Again Followed By Spring, And So Time Continues Its Everlasting Round. But The Life Of Man Is Ever Racing To Its End, Swifter Than Time Itself, Without Hope Of Renewal, Unless In The Next That Is Limitless And Infinite.

But Do Not Give It To A Lawyer's Clerk To Write, For They Use A Legal Hand That Satan Himself Will Not Understand.