A Kind Of Excellent Dumb

Coward Dogs Most Spend Their Mouths When What They Seem To Threaten Runs Far Before Them.

Virtue That Transgresses Is But Patched With Sin; And Sin That Amends Is But Patched With Virtue.

Now Get You To My Lady's Chamber, And Tell Her, Let Her Paint An Inch Thick, To This Favour She Must Come; Make Her Laugh At That.

The Weary Sun Hath Made A Golden Set And By The Bright Tract Of His Fiery Car Gives Token Of A Goodly Day To-morrow.

I Have Very Poor And Unhappy Brains For Drinking.