If Love Be Blind, Love Cannot Hit

Our Wills And Fates Do So Contrary Run.

Tis Beauty That Doth Oft Make Women Proud; But, God He Knows, Thy Share Thereof Is Small.

We Bring Forth Weeds When Our Quick Minds Lie Still.

Costly Thy Habit [dress] As Thy Purse Can Buy; But Not Expressed In Fancy - Rich, Not Gaudy. For The Apparel Oft Proclaims The Man.

This Blessed Plot, This Earth, This Realm, This England.