God, And Parents, And Our Master, Can

He That Is Drunken * * * Is Outlawed By Himself; All Kind Of Ill Did With His Liquor Slide Into His Veins.

To The Counsell Of Fooles A Woodden Bell.

Bees Work For Man, And Yet They Never Bruise Their Master's Flower, But Leave It Having Done, As Fair As Ever And As Fit To Use; So Both The Flower Doth Stay And Honey Run.

Pursue Not A Victory Too Far. He Hath Conquered Well That Hath Made His Enemy Fly; Thou Mayest Beat Him To A Desperate Resistance, Which May Ruin Thee.

There Is No Jollitie But Hath A Smack Of Folly. [there Is No Jollity But Hath A Smack Of Folly.]