Women are not In their best fortunes strong, but want will perjure the ne'er-touched vestal.

I love a ballad in print o' life, for then we are sure they are true.

No profit grows where no pleasure is taken.

Love's stories written in love's richest books. To fan the moonbeams from his sleeping eyes.

Thrift, thrift, Horatio! The funeral bak'd meats did coldly furnish forth the marriage tables.

Mine eyes smell onions: I shall weep anon.

Ignorance is the curse of God; knowledge is the wing wherewith we fly to heaven.