The Devill Is Not Alwaies At One

Though The Mastiffe Be Gentile, Yet Bite Him Not By The Lippe.

Armour Is Light At Table.

The Ill That Comes Out Of Our Mouth Falles Into Our Bosome.

Well May Hee Smell Fire, Whose Gowne Burnes.

Litle Stickes Kindle The Fire; Great Ones Put It Out.