Guiltiness Will Speak, Though Tongues Were Out

Suspicion Always Haunts The Guilty Mind.

So Holy And So Perfect Is My Love, And I In Such A Poverty Of Grace, That I Shall Think It A Most Plenteous Crop To Glean The Broken Ears After The Man That The Main Harvest Reaps.

Young Adam Cupid, He That Shot So Trim, When King Cophetua Loved The Beggar-maid!

Loathsome Canker Lives In Sweetest Bud.

Thus We Play The Fool With The Time And The Spirits Of The Wise Sit In The Clouds And Mock Us.