Better Three Hours Too Soon, Than One

How Many Cowards Whose Hearts Are All As False As Stairs Of Sand, Wear Yet Upon Their Chins The Beards Of Hercules And Frowning Mars, Who Inward Searched, Have Livers White As Milk!

In Scorn Of Nature, Art Gave Lifeless Life.

Some Falls The Means Are Happier To Rise.

I Must To The Barber's, Monsieur, For Methinks I Am Marvellous Hairy About The Face.

I Am A Man More Sinned Against Than Sinning