Wisdom Cries Out In The Streets, And

A Table Full Of Welcome Makes Scarce One Dainty Dish.

Be Patient, For The World Is Broad And Wide.

Love, Whose Month Is Ever May, Spied A Blossom Passing Fair, Playing In The Wanton Air: Through The Velvet Leaves The Wind, All Unseen Can Passage Find; That The Lover, Sick To Death, Wish'd Himself The Heaven's Breath.

Faster Than Spring-time Showers Comes Thought On Thought.

Truly, I Would Not Hang A Dog By My Will, Much More A Man Who Hath Any Honesty In Him.