Pride Breakfasted With Plenty, Dined With Poverty,

Behold The Rain Which Descends From Heaven Upon Our Vineyards; There It Enters The Roots Of The Vines, To Be Changed Into Wine; A Constant Proof That God Loves Us, And Loves To See Us Happy.

Would You Live With Ease, Do What You Ought, And Not What You Please.

He That Hath A Trade, Hath An Estate.

The Body Of B. Franklin, Printer Like The Cover Of An Old Book Its Contents Turn Out And Stript Of Its Lettering & Guilding Lies Here. Food For Worms For, It Will As He Believed Appear Once More In A New And More Elegant Edition Corrected And Improved By The Author.

If You'd Lose A Troublesome Visitor, Lend Him Money.