Faire Language Grates Not The Tongue.

Only A Sweet And Virtuous Soul, Like Season'd Timbered, Never Gives; But Though The Whole World Turn To Coal, Then Chiefly Lives.

The Ofspring Of Those That Are Very Young, Or Very Old, Lasts Not.

He That Staies Does The Businesse.

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

Curtesie On One Side Only Lasts Not Long.