Though patience be a tired mare, yet she will plod.

Well, God give them wisdom that have it; and those that are fools, let them use their talents.

Present mirth hath present laughter. What's to come is still unsure.

And then he drew a dial from his poke, And looking with lack-lustre eye, Says very wisely, 'It is ten o'clock: Thus we may see', Quoth he, 'how the world wags: 'Tis but an hour ago since it was nine, And after one hour more 'twill be eleven; And so from hour to hour we ripe and ripe, And then from hour to hour we rot and rot.

Good things should be praised.

Sufferance is the badge of all our tribe.

A sad tale's best for winter. I have one of sprites and goblins.