He That Hath Lands Hath Quarrells.

Listen, Sweet Dove, Unto My Song, And Spread Thy Golden Wings In Me; Hatching My Tender Heart So Long, Till It Get Wing, And Flie Away With Thee.

Only A Sweet And Virtuous Soul, Like Seasoned Timber, Never Gives.

Service Is No Inheritance.

Chuse None For Thy Servant Who Have Served Thy Betters.

The First Service A Child Doth His Father Is To Make Him Foolish.