The handsome gifts that fate and nature lend us Most often are the very ones that end us.

I gave my whole heart up, for him to hold.

Take a cat, nourish it well with milk and tender meat, make it a couch of silk.

. . . if gold rust, what then will iron do?/ For if a priest be foul in whom we trust/ No wonder that a common man should rust. . . .

All good things must come to an end.

He loved chivalrye Trouthe and honour, freedom and curteisye.

The guilty think all talk is of themselves.