It Is A Foul Bird That Filleth

What A Time Herbs And Weeds, And Such Things Could Talk, A Man In His Garden One Day Did Walk, Spying A Nettle Green (as Th'emeraude) Spread In A Bed Of Roses Like The Ruby Red. Between Which Two Colors He Thought, But His Eye, The Green Nettle Did The Red Rose Beautify. "how Be It," He Asked The Nettle, "what Thing Made Him So Pert? So Nigh The Rose To Spring.

Would Ye Both Eat Your Cake And Have Your Cake?

So Many Heads So Many Wits.

Small Pitchers Have Wyde Eares.

It Is A Poor Dog That Is Not Worth The Whistling