The Good Needs Fear No Law, It

Malice Scorned, Puts Out Itself; But Argued, Give A Kind Of Credit To A False Accusation.

Detraction's A Bold Monster, And Fears Not To Wound The Fame Of Princes, If It Find But Any Blemish In Their Lives To Work On.

My Dancing Days Are Past.

Pleasures Of Worse Natures Are Gladly Entertained, And They That Shun Us Practice In Private Sports The Stews Would Blush At.

Quiet Night, That Brings Best To The Labourer, Is The Outlaw's Day, In Which He Rises Early To Do Wrong, And When His Work Is Ended Dares Not Sleep.