Look Not For Musk In A Dog's

The Bit That One Eates, No Friend Makes.

I Envy No Man's Nightingale Or Spring; Nor Let Them Punish Me With Loss Of Rhyme, Who Plainly Say, My God, My King.

Night Is The Mother Of Counsels.

Not Only Ought Fortune To Be Pictured On A Wheel, But Every Thing Else In This World.

The Command Of Custome Is Great.