Take All The Swift Advantage Of The

I Have Heard Of Your Paintings Too, Well Enough; God Has Given You One Face, And You Make Yourselves Another: You Jig, You Amble, And You Lisp, And Nick-name God's Creatures, And Make Your Wantonness Your Ignorance. Go To, I'll No More On't; It Hath Made Me Mad.

Now All The Youth Of England Are On Fire, And Silken Dalliance In The Wardrobe Lies; Now Thrive The Armorers, And Honor's Thought Reigns Solely In The Breast Of Every Man.

Out Of This Nettle - Danger - We Pluck This Flower - Safety.

Good Hay, Sweet Hay, Hath No Fellow.

He That Commends Me To Mine Own Content Commends Me To The Thing I Cannot Get.