The Death Of A Young Wolfe Doth

Farre Shooting Never Kild Bird.

Give Me Simplicity, That I May Live, So Live And Like, That I May Know Thy Ways, Know Them And Practise Them: Then Shall I Give For This Poor Wreath, Give Thee A Crown Of Praise.

Better A Barefoot Than None.

Only A Sweet And Virtuous Soul, Like Season'd Timbered, Never Gives; But Though The Whole World Turn To Coal, Then Chiefly Lives.

When God Will Punish, Hee Will First Take Away The Understanding.