When Words Are Scarce They

Doubting Things Go Ill Often Hurts More Than To Be Sure They Do; For Certainties Either Are Past Remedies, Or, Timely Knowing, The Remedy Then Born.

I Will Be Master Of What Is Mine Own: She Is My Goods, My Chattels; She Is My House, My Household Stuff, My Field, My Barn, My Horse, My Ox, My Ass, My Any Thing.

How Quickly Nature Falls Into Revolt When Gold Becomes Her Object! For This The Foolish Over-careful Fathers Have Broke Their Sleep With Thoughts, Their Brains With Care, Their Bones With Industry.

That's A Valiant Flea That Dares Eat His Breakfast On The Lip Of A Lion.

'tis Brief, My Lord...as Woman's Love.