Hee That Hath Charge Of Soules Transports

The Sundaies Of Man's Life, Thredded Together On Time's String, Make Bracelets To Adorn The Wife Of The Eternal, Glorious King. On Sunday Heaven's Gates Stand Ope; Blessings Are Plentiful And Rife. More Plentiful Than Hope.

In War, Hunting, And Love, Men For One Pleasure A Thousand Griefes Prove.

Hee That Strikes With His Tongue, Must Ward With His Head.

At Dinner My Man Appeares.

Hee That Bewailes Himselfe Hath The Cure In His Hands.