Cowards Die Many Times; A

After Your Death You Were Better Have A Bad Epitaph Than Their Ill Report While You Live.

A Countenance More In Sorrow Than In Anger.

Love Is My Sin, And Thy Dear Virtue Hate, Hate Of My Sin, Grounded On Sinful Loving.

I Am As Vigilant As A Cat To Steal Cream.

Good Name In Man And Woman, Dear My Lord, Is The Immediate Jewel Of Their Souls: Who Steals My Purse Steals Trash; ’tis Something, Nothing; ’twas Mine, ’tis His, And Has Been Slave To Thousands; But He That Filches From Me My Good Name Robs Me Of That Which Not Enriches Him, And Makes Me Poor Indeed.