He That Is Giddy Thinks The World

Maids Want Nothing But Husbands, And When They Have Them, They Want Everything.

Come, Seeling Night, Scarf Up The Tender Eye Of Pitiful Day, And With Thy Bloody And Invisible Hand Cancel And Tear To Pieces That Great Bond Which Keeps Me Pale. Light Thickens, And The Crow Makes Wing To Th' Rooky Wood. Good Things Of Day Begin To Droop And Drowse, While Night's Black Agents To Their Prey Do Rouse.

Tis But A Base, Ignoble Mind That Mounts No Higher Than A Bird Can Soar.

Patch Grief With Proverbs.

Twas Never Merry World Since Lowly Feigning Was Called Compliment.