For Pitty, Sir, Find Out That Bee

Wealth Cannot Make A Life, But Love.

Gather Ye Rosebuds, While Ye May.

Art Quickens Nature; Care Will Make A Face; Neglected Beauty Perisheth Apace.

When A Daffadill I See, Hanging Down His Head Towards Me, Guess I May, What I Must Be: First, I Shall Decline My Head; Secondly, I Shall Be Dead: Lastly, Safely Buryed.

In Things A Moderation Keep; Kings Ought To Shear, Not Skin, Their Sheep.