My Father's Wit, And My Mother's Tongue,

Confess Yourself To Heaven, Repent What's Past, Avoid What Is To Come, And Do Not Spread The Compost On The Weeds To Make Them Ranker.

Let Life Be Short, Else Shame Will Be Too Long.

I Begin To Find An Idle And Fond Bondage In The Oppression Of Aged Tyranny, Who Sways, Not As It Hath Power, But As It Is Suffered.

There Is Some Soul Of Goodness In Things Evil, Would Men Observingly Distill It Out.

When He Is Best, He Is A Little Worse Than A Man; And When He Is Worst, He Is Little Better Than A Beast.