George Villiers, 2nd Duke of Buckingham

A mans fame and hayre grow most after death, and are both equally uselesse.

There are few have Dana's fortune, to have God and gold togather.

Kisses are but like sands of gold and silver, found upon the ground which are not worth much themselves but as they promise a mine near too be dig'd.

I drink, I huff, I strut, look big and stare; And all this I can do, because I dare.

A Lady that was drown'd at Sea, and had a wave for her Winding sheet.

The blackest Ink of Fate, sure, was my Lot, And, when she writ my Name, she made a blot.

Ay, now the Plot thickens very much upon us.

What a Devil is the Plot good for, but to bring in fine things?

All these threatening storms, which, like impregnate Clouds, hover o'er our heads, will (when they once are grasp'd but by the eye of reason) melt into fruitful showers of blessings on the people.

Our Poets make us laugh at Tragœdy, And with their Comoedies they make us cry.

We might well call this short Mock-play of ours A Posie made of Weeds instead of Flowers; Yet such have been presented to your noses, And there are such, I fear, who thought 'em Roses.

O! what a prodigal have I been of that most valuable of all possessions — Time!

Methinks, I see the wanton houres flee, And as they passe, turne back and laugh at me.

The world's a wood, in which all lose their way, Though by a different path each goes astray.

She that would raise a noble love must find Ways to beget a passion for her mind; She must be that which she to the world would seem, For all true love is grounded on esteem: Plainness and truth gain more a generous heart Than all the …

The world is made up, for the most part, of fools and knaves, both irreconcileable foes to truth.