But Most It Is Presumption In Us

The Heart Hath Treble Wrong When It Is Barr'd The Aidance Of The Tongue.

There Are No Tricks In Plain And Simple Faith.

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

The Man That Hath No Music In Himself, Nor Is Not Moved With Concord Of Sweet Sounds, Is Fit For Treasons, Stratagems And Spoils.

We Will All Laugh At Gilded Butterflies.