Oft From New Truths, And New Phrase,

Good Is Not Good, Unless A Thousand It Possess, But Doth Waste With Greediness.

As Soon As There Was Two There Was Pride.

Who Knows His Virtues Name Or Place, Hath None.

Thou Art Slave To Fate, Chance, Kings, And Desperate Men, And Dost With Poison, War, And Sickness Dwell, And Poppy, Or Charms, Can Make Us Sleep As Well, And Better Than Thy Stroke. Why Swell'st Thou Then?

I Neglect God And His Angles For The Noise Of A Fly, For The Rattling Of A Coach, For The Whining Of A Door.