Musick Helps Not The Tooth-ach.

He That Believes All Misseth; He That Believes Nothing, Hits Not.

Listen, Sweet Dove, Unto My Song, And Spread Thy Golden Wings In Me; Hatching My Tender Heart So Long, Till It Get Wing, And Flie Away With Thee.

Wisedome Hath One Foot On Land, And Another On Sea.

Well May Hee Smell Fire, Whose Gowne Burnes.

Before You Make A Friend, Eate A Bushell Of Salt With Him.