The Soul Is Strong That Trusts In

What Pity 'tis, One That Can Speak So Well, Should In His Actions Be So Ill!

Cheerful Looks Make Every Dish A Feast, And It Is That Which Crowns A Welcome.

Malice Scorned, Puts Out Itself; But Argued, Give A Kind Of Credit To A False Accusation.

I Have Play'd The Fool, The Gross Fool, To Believe The Bosom Of A Friend Will Hold A Secret Mine Own Could Not Contain.

Ill News Are Swallow-winged, But What Is Good Walks On Crutches.