The Hebrew Will Turn Christian; He Grows

Time Shall Unfold What Plaited Cunning Hides: Who Cover Faults, At Last Shame Them Derides.

He Is Winding The Watch Of His Wit; By And By It Will Strike.

Indeed, Sir, He That Sleeps Feels Not The Toothache; But A Man That Were To Sleep Your Sleep, And A Hangman To Help Him To Bed, I Think He Would Change Places With His Officer; For Look You, Sir, You Know Not Which Way You Shall Go.

Plain And Not Honest Is Too Harsh A Style.

I Would Not Lose So Great An Honor As One Man More Methinks Would Share With Me For The Best Hope I Have.