Things Won Are Done, Joy's Soul Lies

So Long As Men Can Breathe, Or Eyes Can See, So Long Lives This, And This Gives Life To Thee.

O, Let My Books Be Then The Eloquence And Dumb Presages Of My Speaking Breast.

Love Adds A Precious Seeing To The Eye.

Stay, My Lord, And Let Your Reason With Your Choler Question What 'tis You Go About: To Climb Steep Hills Requires Slow Pace At First: Anger Is Like A Full-hot Horse, Who Being Allow'd His Way, Self-mettle Tires Him. Not A Man In England Can Advise Me Like You: Be To Yourself As You Would To Your Friend.

Grief Hath Two Tongues; And Never Woman Yet Could Rule Them Both Without Ten Women's Wit.