Tell Me Where Is Fancy Bred, Or

Brevity Is The Soul Of Wit.

The Plants Look Up To Heaven, From Whence They Have Their Nourishment.

A Nun Of Winter's Sisterhood Kisses Not More Religiously; The Very Ice Of Chastity Is In Them.

Every Why Hath A Wherefore.

There Is No Slander In An Allowed Fool, Though He Do Nothing But Rail.