Death Keepes No Calender.

Marry Your Sonne When You Will; Your Daughter When You Can. [marry Your Son When You Will, Your Daughter When You Can.]

The Crow Bewailes The Sheepe, And Then Eates It.

No Alchymy To Saving.

The Slothful Is The Servant Of The Counters.

It's An Ill Aire Where Wee Gaine Nothing.