The Path Is Smooth That

Unless Hours Were Cups Of Sack, And Minutes Capons, And Clocks The Tongues Of Bawds, And Dials The Signs Of Leaping-houses, And The Blessed Sun Himself A Fair Hot Wench In Flame-colored Taffeta, I See No Reason Why Thou Shouldst Be So Superfluous To Demand The Time Of The Day.

Rich Gifts Wax Poor When Givers Prove Unkind.

In That Small [time] Most Greatly Lived This Star Of England: Fortune Made His Sword, By Which The World's Best Garden He Achiev'd And Left It To His Son Imperial Lord. Henry The Sixth, In Infant Bands Crown'd King Of France And England Did This King Succeed; Whose State So Many Of Had The Managing, That They Lost France And Made His England Bleed.

No Stony Bulwark Can Resist The Love, And Love Dares What Anyone Can Love.

How Can Tyrants Safely Govern Home, Unless Abroad They Purchase Great Alliance.