They Have A Plentiful Lack Of Wit.

He Is Not Worthy Of The Honey-comb, That Shuns The Hives Because The Bees Have Stings.

Most Dangerous Is That Temptation That Doth Goad Us On To Sin In Loving Virtue.

It Is The Cowish Terror Of His Spirit That Dares Not Undertake; He'll Not Feel Wrongs Which Tie Him To An Answer.

Have Patience, And Endure

These Violent Delights Have Violent Ends And In Their Triumph Die, Like Fire And Powder, Which As They Kiss Consume. The Sweetest Honey Is Loathsome In His Own Deliciousness And In The Taste Confounds The Appetite. Therefore Love Moderately; Long Love Doth So; Too Swift Arrives As Tardy As Too Slow.