Make A Virtue Of Necessity.

Who Then May Trust The Dice, At Fortune's Throw?

The Latter End Of Joy Is Woe.

'my Lige Lady, Generally,' Quod He, 'wommen Desyren To Have Sovereyntee As Well Over Hir Housbond As Hir Love.'

Felds Hath Eyen, And Wode Have Eres.

How Potent Is The Fancy! People Are So Impressionable, They Can Die Of Imagination.