Art Hath An Enemy Call'd Ignorance .

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.

Opinion Is A Light, Vain, Crude, And Imperfect Thing.

Sweet Swan Of Avon! What A Sight It Were To See Thee In Our Water Yet Appear.

Calumnies Are Answered Best With Silence.

That I Might Live Alone Once With My Gold! O, 'tis A Sweet Companion! Kind And True: A Man May Trust It When His Father Cheats Him, Brother, Or Friend, Or Wife. O Wondrous Pelf! That Which Makes All Men False, Is True Itself.