That In Affairs Of Very Considerable Importance

Poetry Is A Kind Of Ingenious Nonsense (spence, Anecdotes

There Do Remain Dispersed In The Soil Of Human Nature Divers Seeds Of Goodness, Of Benignity, Of Ingenuity, Which, Being Cherished, Excited, And Quickened By Good Culture, Do, By Common Experience, Thrust Out Flowers Very Lovely, And Yield Fruits Very Pleasant Of Virtue And Goodness.

If We Desire To Live Securely, Comfortably, And Quietly, That By All Honest Means We Should Endeavor To Purchase The Good Will Of All Men, And Provoke No Man's Enmity Needlessly; Since Any Man's Love May Be Useful, And Every Man's Hatred Is Dangerous.

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.

Slander Is A Complication, A Comprisal And Sum Of All Wickedness.