Art Hath An Enemy Call'd Ignorance .

If Men Will Impartially, And Not Asquint, Look Toward The Offices And Function Of A Poet, They Will Easily Conclude To Themselves The Impossibility Of Any Man's Being A Good Poet Without First Being A Good Man.

I Know No Disease Of The Soul But Ignorance, A Pernicious Evil, The Darkener Of Man's Life, The Disturber Of His Reason, And Common Confounder Of Truth.

Ambition, Like A Torrent, Never Looks Back.

Queen And Huntress, Chaste And Fair Now The Sun Is Laid To Sleep, Seated In Thy Silver Chair, State In Wonted Manner Keep: Hesperus Entreats Thy Light Goddess, Excellently Bright.

[the Play] Is Like To Be A Very Conceited Scurvy One, In Plain English.