What Is Aught But As 'tis Valued?

They Are Sick That Surfeit With Too Much, As They That Starve With Nothing.

The Third Day Comes A Frost, A Killing Frost.

If't Be Summer News, Smile To't Before; If Winterly, Thou Need'st But Keep That Count'nance Still.

I Heard A Bustling Rumor Like A Fray, And The Wind Blows It From The Capitol.

More Matter With Less Art.