Home-keeping Youth Have Ever Homely

Free From Gross Passion Or Of Mirth Of Anger Constant Spirit, Not Swerving With The Blood, Garnish'd And Deck'd In Modest Compliment, Not Working With The Eye Without The Ear, And But In Purged Judgement Trusting Neither? Such And So Finely Bolted Didst Thou Seem.

We Cannot All Be Masters, Nor All Masters Cannot Be Truly Followed.

Short Summers Lightly Have A Forward Spring.

Ingratitude Is Monstrous.

How Low Am I, Thou Painted Maypole?