All That Glitters Is Not Gold.

I Was Not Born Under A Rhyming Planet, Nor I Cannot Woo To In Festival Terms.

That Strain Again! It Had A Dying Fall: O, It Came O'er My Ear Like The Sweet Sound That Breathes Upon A Bank Of Violets, Stealing And Giving Odour! Enough; No More: 'tis Not So Sweet As It Was Before.

Honesty Is Not The Best Policy - Merely The Safest

And To The English Court Assemble Now, From Every Region, Apes Of Idleness!

You Have Too Much Respect Upon The World; They Lose It That Do Buy It With Much Care