In Time Comes He Whom God Sends.

Whether Goest, Griefe? Where I Am Wont.

Between The Businesse Of Life And The Day Of Death, A Space Ought To Be Interposed.

Every Path Hath A Puddle.

He Is A Foole That Makes A Wedge Of His Fist.

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