Gold Were As Good As Twenty Orators.

If They Love They Know Not Why, They Hate Upon No Better Ground, They Hate Upon No Better A Ground

O Thou That Dost Inhabit In My Breast, Leave Not The Mansion So Long Tenantless; Lest, Growing Ruinous, The Building Fall And Leave No Memory Of What It Was!

Do Not Spread The Compost On The Weeds.

We Must Be Gentle Now We Are Gentlemen.

For Love, Thou Know'st, Is Full Of Jealousy