An honest tale speeds best being plainly told.
Her blood is settled, and her joints are stiff; Life and these lips have long been separated: Death lies on her like an untimely frost Upon the sweetest flower of all the field.
The last taste of sweets is sweetest last.
Silence is the perfect herald of joy.
It is a wise father that knows his own child.
A jest's prosperity lies in the ear Of him that hears it, never in the tongue Of him that makes it.