A Knavish Speech Sleeps In

For A Quart Of Ale Is A Dish For A King.

We Waste Our Lights In Vain, Like Lamps By Day.

The Amity That Wisdom Knits Not, Folly May Easily Untie.

And Oftentimes, To Win Us To Our Harm, The Instruments Of Darkness Tell Us Truths, Win Us With Honest Trifles, To Betray's In Deepest Consequence

The Sweetest Honey Is Loathsome In His Own Deliciousness.