Nothing Comes Amiss, So Money Comes Withal.

Ay, But Hearken, Sir; Though The Chameleon Love Can Feed On The Air, I Am One That Am Nourished By My Victuals, And Would Fain Have Meat.

Though It Be Honest, It Is Never Good To Bring Bad News.

Can We Outrun The Heavens?

But Virtue Never Will Be Mov'd, Though Lewdness Court It In A Shape Of Heaven.

That Skull Had A Tongue In It, And Could Sing Once: How The Knave Jowls It To The Ground, As If It Were Cain's Jaw-bone, That Did The First Murder! It Might Be The Pate Of A Politician, Which This Ass Now O'er-reaches; One That Would Circumvent God, Might It Not?