Mischiefs Feed / Like Beasts, Till They

Whom The Disease Of Talking Still Once Posses-seth, He Can Never Hold His Peace.

Cut Men's Throats With Whisperings.

The Man That Is Once Hated, Both His Good And His Evil Deeds Oppress Him.

Custom Is The Most Certain Mistress Of Language, As The Public Stamp Makes The Current Money.

True Gladness Doth Not Always Speak; Joy, Bred And Born But In The Tongue, Is Weak.