I Have Seen Better Faces In My

For A Noble Heart, The Most Precious Gift Becomes Poor, When The Giver Stops Loving.

Unless The Old Adage Must Be Verified, That Beggars Mounted, Run Their Horse To Death.

The Proverb Is Something Musty.

Blest Are Those Whose Blood And Judgment Are So Well Commingled, That They Are Not A Pipe For Fortune's Finger To Sound What Stop She Please.

Wilt Thou Whip Thine Own Faults In Other Men?