Home-keeping Youth Have Ever Homely Wits.

The Weary Sun Hath Made A Golden Set And By The Bright Tract Of His Fiery Car Gives Token Of A Goodly Day To-morrow.

Why, Look You, I Am Whipp'd And Scourg'd With Rods, Nettled And Stung With Pismires[nettles], When I Hear Of This Vile Politician, Bolingbroke.

There Is A Time In The Affairs Of Men, Which, Taken At The Flood, Leads On To Fortune.

I Would With Such Perfection Govern, Sir, T'excel The Golden Age.

I Can Express No Kinder Sign Of Love, Than This Kind Kiss.