The Fields Have Eyes, And

Time Lost, As Men May See, For Nothing May Recovered Be.

Go, Little Booke! Go, My Little Tragedie!

The Proverbe Saith That Many A Smale Maketh A Grate.

If A Man Really Loves A Woman, Of Course He Wouldn't Marry Her For The World If He Were Not Quite Sure That He Was The Best Person She Could Possibly Marry.

Fo Lo, The Gentil Kind Of The Lioun! For When A Flye Offendeth Him Or Byteth, He With His Tayl Awey The Flye Smyteth Al Esily, For, Of His Genterye, Him Deyneth Net To Wreke Him On A Flye, As Cloth A Curre Or Elles Another Beste.