Great Honours Are Great Burdens, But On

I Know No Disease Of The Soul But Ignorance, A Pernicious Evil, The Darkener Of Man's Life, The Disturber Of His Reason, And Common Confounder Of Truth.

Forbear, You Things That Stand Upon The Pinnacles Of State, To Boast Your Slippery Height! When You Do Fall, You Dash Yourselves In Pieces, Ne'er To Rise: And He That Lends You Pity, Is Not Wise.

No Glass Renders A Man's Form Or Likeness So True As His Speech.

How Fortune Piles Her Sports When She Begins To Practise Them!

True Melancholy Breeds Your Perfect Fine Wit.