That is not good language which all understand not.

That is not good language which all understand not.

Friend, for your epitaph I'm grieved,
Where still so much is said;
One half will never be read more

Friend, for your epitaph I'm grieved,
Where still so much is said;
One half will never be believed,
The other never read.

None is borne Master.

None is borne Master.

Hee hath no leisure who useth it not.

Hee hath no leisure who useth it not.

And last, the crown of a' my grief.

And last, the crown of a' my grief.

He that feares leaves, let him not goe into the wood.

He that feares leaves, let him not goe into the wood.

Here is a fine field for talent.

Here is a fine field for talent.

Covetous of another man's, prodigal of his own.

Covetous of another man's, prodigal of his own.

The heart of the wise in in the house of mourning, but the heart
of fools is in the read more

The heart of the wise in in the house of mourning, but the heart
of fools is in the house of mirth.