New Customs, Though They Be

If Love Be Blind, It Best Agrees With Night

Methinks A Father Is At The Nuptial Of His Son A Guest That Best Becomes The Table.

Never Anger Made Good Guard For Itself.

Let Me Have War, Say I; It Exceeds Peace As Far As Day Does Night; It's Spritely, Waking, Audible, And Full Of Vent.

The Southern Wind Doth Play The Trumpet To His Purposes; And, By His Hollow Whistling In The Leaves, Foretells A Tempest And A Blustering Day.