Nothing Hath Wrought More Prejudice To Religion,

Virtue Is Not A Mushroom, That Springeth Up Of Itself In One Night When We Are Asleep, Or Regard It Not; But A Delicate Plant, That Groweth Slowly And Tenderly, Needing Much Pains To Cultivate It, Much Care To Guard It, Much Time To Mature It, In Our Untoward Soil, In This World's Unkindly Weather.

Sin Is Never At A Stay; If We Do Not Retreat From It, We Shall Advance In It; And The Farther On We Go, The More We Have To Come Back.

No Man Speaketh, Or Should Speak, Of His Prince, That Which He Hath Not Weighed Whether It Will Consist With That Veneration Which Should Be Preserved Inviolate To Him.

Chance Never Writ A Legible Book; Chance Never Built A Fair House; Chance Never Drew A Neat Picture; It Never Did Any Of These Things, Nor Ever Will; Nor Can It Be Without Absurdity Supposed Able To Do Them; Which Yet Are Works Very Gross And Rude, Very Easy And Feasible, As It Were, In Comparison To The Production Of A Flower Or A Tree.

If Men Are Wont To Play With Swearing Anywhere, Can We Expect They Should Be Serious And Strict Therein At The Bar Or In The Church.