God, And Parents, And Our Master, Can

Man Is All Symmetry, Full Of Proportions, One Limb To Another.

Take Heed Of A Step-mother; The Very Name Of Her Sufficeth.

Wouldst Thou Both Eat Thy Cake And Have It?

Sweet Rose, Whose Hue, Angry And Brave, Bids The Rash Gazer Wipe His Eye, Thy Root Is Even In The Grave, And Thou Must Die.

Hee That Hath Patience Hath Fatt Thrushes For A Farthing.