Chuse A Horse Made, And A Wife

Fear Keepes And Looks To The Vineyard, And Not The Owner.

Let An Ill Man Lie In Thy Straw, And He Looks To Be Thy Heire.

The Child Saies Nothing, But What It Heard By The Fire.

He That Hopes Not For Good, Feares Not Evill.

O What A Sight Were Man, If His Attires Did Alter With His Minde; And Like A Dolphins Skinne, His Clothes Combin'd With His Desires!