The Loyalty, Well Held To Fools, Does

As Chaste As Is The Bud Ere It Be Blown.

The Heart Hath Treble Wrong When It Is Barr'd The Aidance Of The Tongue.

No Matter Where; Of Comfort No Man Speak: Let's Talk Of Graves, Of Worms, And Epitaphs; Make Dust Our Paper And With Rainy Eyes Write Sorrow On The Bosom Of The Earth

When The Age Is In, The Wit Is Out

They Love Least That Let Men Know Their Loves.