Better The Last Smile Than The First

A Child May Have Too Much Of His Mother's Blessing.

The Horse Thinks One Thing And He That Rides Him Another

A Wonder Then It Must Needs Be,-that There Should Be Any Man Found So Stupid And Forsaken Of Reason As To Persuade Himself, That This Most Beautiful And Adorned World Was Or Could Be Produced By The Fortuitous Concourse Of Atoms.

I Love Thee Like Puddings; If Thou Wert Pie I'd Eat Thee.

A Multitude Of Words Doth Rather Obscure Than Illustrate, They Being A Burden To The Memory, And The First Apt To Be Forgotten, Before We Come To The Last. So That He That Uses Many Words For The Explaining Of Any Subject, Doth, Like The Cuttle-fish, Hide Himself, For The Most Part, In His Own Ink.