He Draweth Out The Thread Of His

I See A Woman May Be Made A Fool, If She Had Not A Spirit To Resist.

I Am Sure, Though You Can Guess What Temperance Should Be, You Know Not What It Is.

Oppose Not Rage While Rage Is In Its Force, But Give It Way A While And Let It Waste.

But I Will Wear My Heart Upon My Sleeve For Daws To Peck At: I Am Not What I Am.

Here's Flowers For You; Hot Lavender, Mints, Savoury, Marjoram; The Marigold, That Goes To Bed Wi' The Sun And With Him Rises Weeping: These Are Flowers Of Middle Summer, And I Think They Are Given To Men Of Middle Age.