Tush! Fear Not, My Lord,

Thou Call'st Me Dog Before Thou Hadst A Cause, But Since I Am A Dog, Beware My Fangs.

The Purest Treasure Mortal Times Can Afford Is A Spotless Reputation.

Roses Have Thorns, And Silver Fountains Mud; Clouds And Eclipses Stain Both Moon And Sun, And Loathsome Canker Lies In Sweetest Bud. All Men Make Faults.

Tush! Fear Not, My Lord, We Will Not Stand To Prate; Talkers Are No Good Doers: Be Assured We Come To Use Our Hands And Not Our Tongues.

Did My Heart Love Till Now? Forswear It, Sight! For I Ne'er Saw True Beauty Till This Night.