Armour Is Light At Table.

A Faire Death Honours The Whole Life.

Were There No Hearers, There Would Be No Backbiters.

It's An Ill Councell That Hath No Escape.

That Flesh Is But The Glasse, Which Holds The Dust That Measures All Our Time; Which Also Shall Be Crumbled Into Dust.

The Eyes Have One Language Everywhere.