On her white breast a sparkling cross she wore, Which Jews might kiss and infidels adore.

On her white breast a sparkling cross she wore, Which Jews might kiss and infidels adore.

Oft, as in airy rings they skim the heath, The clamtrous lapwings feel the leaden death; Oft, as the mounting larks their notes prepare They fall, and leave their little lives in air.

Rogues in rags are kept in countenance by rogues in ruffles.

You beat your Pate, and fancy Wit will come: Knock as you please, there's no body at home.

To swear is neither brave, polite, nor wise.

Old men, for the most part, are like old chronicles that give you dull but true accounts of times past, and are worth knowing only on that score.