The Sun With One Eye Vieweth All

Nature Her Custom Holds, Let Shame Say What It Will.

But It Is A Melancholy Of Mine Own, Compounded Of Many Simples, Extracted From Many Objects, And Indeed The Sundry Contemplation Of My Travels, Which, By Often Rumination, Wraps Me In The Most Humorous Sadness.

Tis Mad Idolatry To Make The Service Greater Than The God.

And How His Audit Stands Who Knows, Save Heaven?

Friendship's Full Of Dregs.