That Thou Art Blamed Shall Not Be

Security Is The Chief Enemy Of Mortals.

This Fellow Is Wise Enough To Play The Fool; And To Do That Well Craves A Kind Of Wit: He Must Observe Their Mood On Whom He Jests, The Quality Of Persons, And The Time, And, Like The Haggard, Check At Every Feather That Comes Before His Eye. This Is A Practise As Full Of Labour As A Wise Man's Art For Folly That He Wisely Shows Is Fit; But Wise Men, Folly-fall'n, Quite Taint Their Wit.

I Know No Ways To Mince It In Love, But Directly To Say - I Love You

No Man's Pie Is Freed From His Ambitious Finger.

The Let-alone Lies Not In Your Good Will.