Every Country Hath Its Machiavel.

It Is The Common Wonder Of All Men, How Among So Many Million Faces, There Should Be None Alike.

A Wise Man Is Out Of The Reach Of Fortune.

Do The Devils Lie? No; For Then Even Hell Could Not Subsist.

There Is Nothing Strictly Immortal, But Immortality. Whatever Hath No Beginning May Be Confident Of No End.

He Is Like To Be Mistaken Who Makes Choice Of A Covetous Man For A Friend, Or Relieth Upon The Reed Of Narrow And Poltroon Friendship. Pitiful Things Are Only To Be Found In The Cottages Of Such Breasts; But Bright Thoughts, Clear Deeds, Constancy, Fidelity, Bounty And Generous Honesty Are The Gems Of Noble Minds, Wherein (to Derogate From None) The True, Heroic English Gentleman Hath No Peer.