He's Truly Valiant That Can Wisely Suffer

I Will Be Master Of What Is Mine Own: She Is My Goods, My Chattels; She Is My House, My Household Stuff, My Field, My Barn, My Horse, My Ox, My Ass, My Any Thing.

God Defend Me From That Welsh Fairy, Lest He Transform Me To A Piece Of Cheese!

All That Glitters Is Not Gold.

Let Still Woman Take An Elder Than Herself: So Wears She To Him, So Sways She Level In Her Husband's Heart, For, Boy, However We Do Praise Ourselves, Our Fancies Are More Giddy And Unfirm, More Longing, Wavering, Sooner To Be Lost And Warn, Than Women's Are.

Well-apparel'd April On The Heel Of Limping Winter Treads.