Instinct Is A Great Matter. I Was

Many A Man's Tongue Shakes Out His Master's Undoing.

If All The Year Were Playing Holidays; To Sport Would Be As Tedious As To Work.

They Were Devils Incarnate.

Truly Thou Art Damned, Like An Ill-roasted Egg, All On One Side.

Who Would Be So Mocked With Glory, Or To Live But In A Dream Of Friendship, To Have His Pomp And All What State Compounds But Only Painted, Like His Varnished Friends?