Nor Shall Our Cups Make Any Guilty

A New Disease? I Know Not, New Or Old, But It May Well Be Called Poor Mortals Plague For, Like A Pestilence, It Doth Infect The Houses Of The Brain Till Not A Thought, Or Motion, In The Mind, Be Free From The Black Poison Of Suspect.

Affliction Teacheth A Wicked Person Sometime To Pray; Prosperity Never.

Our Whole Life Is Like A Play.

Whom The Disease Of Talking Still Once Posses-seth, He Can Never Hold His Peace.

We Are Persons Of Quality, I Assure You, And Women Of Fashion, And Come To See And To Be Seen.