We Waste Our Lights In Vain, Like

A Woman Impudent And Mannish Grown Is Not More Loath'd Than An Effeminate Man.

Rumour: "upon My Tongues Continual Slanders Ride, The Which In Every Language I Pronounce, Stuffing The Ears Of Men With False Reports.

All That Glisters Is Not Gold; Often Have You Heard That Told.

The Glowworm Shows The Matin To Be Near And Gins To Pale His Uneffectual Fire.

A Light Heart Lives Long.