Curtesie On One Side Only Lasts Not

The Wolf Must Die In His Own Skin.

Listen, Sweet Dove, Unto My Song, And Spread Thy Golden Wings In Me; Hatching My Tender Heart So Long, Till It Get Wing, And Flie Away With Thee.

There Come Nought Out Of The Sacke But What Was There.

Woe To The House Where There Is No Chiding.

At Length The Fox Turnes Monk.