Glory Is Like A Circle In The

Here Comes A Man Of Comfort, Whose Advice Hath Often Stilled My Brawling Discontent.

Farewell! Thou Art Too Dear For My Possessing.

Here Is A Rural Fellow That Will Not Be Denied Your Highness' Presence: He Brings You Figs.

When A Wise Man Gives Thee Better Counsel, Give Me Mine Again.

Foolery, Sir, Does Walk About The Orb Like The Sun; It Shines Everywhere.