That Affable Familiar Ghost Which Nightly Gulls

He Receives Comfort Like Cold Porridge.

I See Men's Judgments Are A Parcel Of Their Fortunes; And Things Outward Do Draw The Inward Quality After Them, To Suffer All Alike.

Silence Is The Perfectest Herault Of Joy. I Were But Little Happy If I Could Say How Much.

. . . It Is Impossible You Should Take True Root But By The Fair Weather That You Make Yourself It Is Needful That You Frame The Season Of Your Own Harvest.

If Thou Dost Marry, I'll Give Thee This Plague For Thy Dowry: Be Thou As Chaste As Ice, As Pure As Snow, Thou Shalt Not Escape Calumny.