Take Pains. Be Perfect.

Would It Not Grieve A Woman To Be Over-mastered By A Piece Of Valiant Dust? To Make An Account Of Her Life To A Clod Of Wayward Marle?

There's Place And Means For Every Man Alive.

O, I Do Not Like That Paying Back, 'tis A Double Labor.

Where I Could Not Be Honest, I Never Yet Was Valiant.

By Being Seldom Seen, I Could Not Stir But Like A Comet I Was Wondered At.