When I Was At Home I Was

Love Is Begun By Time And Time Qualifies The Spark And Fire Of It.

Talkers Are No Good Doers.

What Else May Hap, To Time I Will Commit.

The Language I Have Learnt These Forty Years, My Native English, Now I Must Forgo; And Now My Tongue's Use Is To Me No More Than An Unstringed Viol Or A Harp, Or Like A Cunning Instrument Cased Up Or, Being Open, Put Into His Hands That Knows No Touch To Tune The Harmony.

Methinks A Father Is At The Nuptial Of His Son A Guest That Best Becomes The Table.