When Children Stand Quiet, They Have Done

The Corne Hides It Self In The Snow, As An Old Man In Furrs.

That From Small Fires Comes Oft No Small Mishap.

Shall I, To Please Another Wine-sprung Minde, Lose All Mine Own? God Hath Giv'n Me A Measure Short Of His Can And Body; Must I Find A Pain In That, Wherein He Finds A Pleasure?

In Solitude, Be A Multitude To Thyself. Tibullus By All Means Use Sometimes To Be Alone.

Of All Smells, Bread; Of All Tastes, Salt.