Cupid Is A Knavish Lad, Thus To

Avaunt, You Cullions!

And The More Pity That Great Folk Should Have Count'nance In This World To Drown Or Hang Themselves More Than Their Even-christen.

Things Won Are Done, Joy's Soul Lies In The Doing.

Of All The Fair Resort Of Gentlemen That Every Day With Parle Encounter Me, In Thy Opinion Which Is Worthiest Love?

Anger Is Like A Full Hot Horse, Who Being Allowed His Way, Self-mettle Tires Him.