That Is Gold Which Is Worth Gold.

Bees Work For Man, And Yet They Never Bruise Their Master's Flower, But Leave It Having Done, As Fair As Ever And As Fit To Use; So Both The Flower Doth Stay And Honey Run.

Nothing Dries Sooner Then A Teare.

A Garden Must Be Looked Unto And Dressed As The Body.

No Church-yard Is So Handsom, That A Man Would Desire Straight To Bee Buried There. [no Churchyard Is So Handsome That A Man Would Desire Straight To Be Buried There.]

If That Thy Fame With Ev'ry Toy Be Pos'd, 'tis A Thin Web, Which Poysonous Fancies Make; But The Great Souldier's Honour Was Compos'd Of Thicker Stuf, Which Would Endure A Shake. Wisdom Picks Friends; Civility Plays The Rest; A Toy Shunn'd Cleanly Passeth With The Best.