My Love's More Richer Than My Tongue.

Do You Bite Your Thumb At Us, Sir?

Press Not A Falling Man Too Far; 'tis Virtue: His Faults Lie Open To The Laws; Let Them, Not You, Correct Him.

For Thou Hast Given Me In This Beauteous Face A World Of Earthly Blessings To My Soul, If Sympathy Of Love Unite Our Thoughts.

There's Not A Note Of Mine That's Worth The Noting.

Do Not Spread The Compost On The Weeds.