Thou Canst Not Speak Of What Thou

If It Be True That Good Wine Needs No Bush, 'tis True That A Good Play Needs No Epilogue.

The Summer's Flower Is To The Summer Sweet Though To Itself It Only Live And Die

Light And Lust Are Deadly Enemies.

Nothing Teems But Hateful Docks, Rough Thistles, Kecksies, Burs, Losing Both Beauty And Utility.

Base Is The Slave That Pays.