He That Always Waits Upon

A Combed Writing Will Cost Both Sweat And The Rubbing Of The Brain. And Combed I Wish It, Not Frizzled Or Curled.

There Is No Man But For His Own Interest Hath An Obligation To Be Honest. There May Be Sometimes Temptations To Be Otherwise; But, All Cards Cast Up, He Shall Find It The Greatest Ease, The Highest Profit, The Best Pleasure, The Most Safety, And The Noblest Fame, To Hold The Horns Of This Altar, Which, In All Assays, Can In Himself Protect Him.

Virtue Were A Kind Of Misery If Fame Were All The Garland That Crowned Her.

Riches, Though They May Reward Virtues, Yet They Cannot Cause Them; He Is Much More Noble Who Deserves A Benefit Than He Who Bestows One.

Gold Is The Fool's Curtain, Which Hides All His Defects From The World.