Fair Is The Marigold, For Pottage Meet.

Twas When The Seas Were Roaring With Hollow Blasts Of Wind, A Damsel Lay Deploring, All On A Rock Reclined.

Who Talks Much, Must Talk In Vain.

Fools May Our Scorn, Not Envy, Raise. For Envy Is A Kind Of Praise.

In Love We Are All Fools Alike.

A Man Is Always Afraid Of A Woman That Loves Him Too Much