My Purpose Is, Indeed, A Horse Of

Rich Honesty Dwells Like A Miser, Sir, In A Poor House; As Your Pearl In Your Foul Oyster.

Let The Doors Be Shut Upon Him, That He May Play The Fool No Where But In's Own House.

The Poor World Is Almost Six Thousand Years Old, And In All This Time There Was Not Any Man Died In His Own Person, Videlicet, In A Love-cause.

Though Fortune's Malice Overthrow My State, My Mind Exceeds The Compass Of Her Wheel.

A Good Heart Is The Sun And The Moon; Or, Rather, The Sun And Not The Moon, For It Shines Bright And Never Changes.