Glory Is Like A Circle In The

Vile Worm, Thou Wast O'erlook'd Even In Thy Birth.

The Instances That Second Marriage Move Are Base Respects Of Thrift, But None Of Love.

Thy Wit Is A Very Bitter Sweeting; It Is A Most Sharp Sauce.

Tis But A Base, Ignoble Mind That Mounts No Higher Than A Bird Can Soar.

Wisely, And Slow. They Stumble That Run Fast.