With emptie hands men may no haukes lure.
Full wise is he that can himselven knowe.
And she was fair as is the rose in May.
Habit maketh no monk, ne wearing of gilt spurs maketh no knight.
My house is small, but you are learned men And by your arguments can make a place Twenty foot broad as infinite as space.
The handsome gifts that fate and nature lend us Most often are the very ones that end us.