She Speaks Poniards, And Every Word Stabs.

Her Blood Is Settled, And Her Joints Are Stiff; Life And These Lips Have Long Been Separated: Death Lies On Her Like An Untimely Frost Upon The Sweetest Flower Of All The Field.

By A Divine Instinct, Men's Minds Mistrust Ensuing Danger; As, By Proof, We See The Waters Swell Before A Boisterous Storm.

Two Women Placed Together Makes Cold Weather.

Plenty And Peace Breed Cowards; Hardness Ever Of Hardiness Is Mother.

Alas, That Love, Whose View Is Muffled Still, Should Without Eyes See Pathways To His Will!