The Germans Wit Is In His Fingers.

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.

Every One Hath A Foole In His Sleeve.

Good Swimmers At Length Are Drowned.

Who Would Have Thought My Shrivel'd Heart Could Have Recovered Greenness?

Drink Not The Third Glass, Which Thou Canst Not Tame, When Once It Is Within Thee.