Honest Plain Words Best Pierce The Ear

Put Forth Thy Hand, Reach At The Glorious Gold.

It Is A Heretic That Makes The Fire, Not She Which Burns In It.

Things Bad Begun Make Strong Themselves By Ill.

For There Was Never Yet Philosoper That Could Endure The Toothache Patiently, However They Have Writ The Style Of Gods, And Made A Push At Chance And Sufferance.

The Even Mead, That Erst Brought Sweetly Forth The Freckled Cowslip, Burnet, And Green Clover, Wanting The Scythe, All Uncorrected, Rank, Conceives By Idleness, And Nothing Teems But Hateful Docks, Rough Thistles, Kecksies, Burrs, Losing Both Beauty And Utility.