Exceeds Man's Might: That Dwells With The

Who Soars Too Near The Sun, With Golden Wings, Melts Them.

Tis Better Using France Than Trusting France; Let Us Be Back'd With God, And With The Seas, Which He Hath Given For Fence Impregnable, And With Their Helps Only Defend Ourselves; In Them, And In Ourselves, Our Safety Lies.

I Think The King Is But A Man As I Am: The Violet Smells To Him As It Doth To Me.

My Cake Is Dough, But I'll In Among The Rest, Out Of Hope Of All But My Share Of The Feast.

Love Looks Not With The Eyes, But With The Mind, And Therefore Is Winged Cupid Painted Blind.