Brevity Is The Soul Of Wit.

Present Mirth Hath Present Laughter. What's To Come Is Still Unsure.

Gently To Hear, Kindly To Judge.

There's Nothing Ill Can Dwell In Such A Temple. If The Ill Spirit Have So Fair A House, Good Things Will Strive To Dwell With't

A Knavish Speech Sleeps In A Fool's Ear.

That You Were Once Unkind Befriends Me Now, And For That Sorrow, Which I Then Did Feel, Needs Must I Under My Transgression Bow, Unless My Nerves Were Brass Or Hammered Steel.