Fortune Brings In Some Boats That Are

Hot And Hasty, Like A Scotch Jig.

What Our Contempts Do Often Hurl From Us, We Wish It Ours Again.

The Cunning Livery Of Hell.

It Is Not Vain Glory For A Man And His Glass To Confer In His Own Chamber.

Our Fancies Are More Giddy And Unfirm, More Longing, Wavering, Sooner Lost And Won, Than Women's Are.