Still to be neat, still to be drest, As you were going to a feast, Still to be powder’d, all perfum’d. Lady, it is to be presumed, Though art’s hid causes are not found, All is not sweet, all is not sound.
BEN JONSON
It is the highest of earthly honors to be descended from the great and good. They alone cry out against a noble ancestry who have none of their own.
