Many Can Brook The Weather That Love

How Many Fond Fools Serve Mad Jealousy!

The Icy Precepts Of Respect.

To Say The Truth, So Judas Kissed His Master And Cried, 'all Hail!' When As He Meant All Harm.

There Is No Vice So Simple But Assumes Some Mark Of Virtue On His Outward Parts.

I Should Think This A Gull, But That The White-bearded Fellow Speaks It; Knavery Cannot, Sure, Hide Himself In Such Reverence.