If You Be Sick, Your Own Thoughts

True Gladness Doth Not Always Speak; Joy, Bred And Born But In The Tongue, Is Weak.

Chance Will Not Do The Work. Chance Sends The Breeze; But If The Pilot Slumber At The Helm, The Very Wind That Wafts Us Tow'rds The Port May Dash Us On The Shoals. The Steersman's Part Is Vigilance, Or Blow It Rough Or Smooth.

That Old Bald Cheater, Time.

Tell Troth And Shame The Devil.

Out Of Clothes Out Of Countenance, Out Of Countenance Out Of Wit.