Assume A Virtue If You Have It

Hot Lavender, Mints, Savory, Marjoram; The Marigold, That Goes To Bed Wi' The Sun, And With Him Rise Weeping.

Love's Mind Of Judgment Rarely Hath A Taste: Wings And No Eyes Figure Unheedy Haste.

Wise Men Never Sit And Wail Their Loss, But Cheerily Seek How To Redress Their Harms.

It Is The Stars, The Stars Above Us, Govern Our Conditions.

There Is A Kind Of Character In Thy Life, That To The Observer Doth Thy History, Fully Unfold.