The Vertue Of A Coward Is Suspition.

The Hole Calls The Thiefe. [the Hole Calls The Thief.]

Rise, Heart; Thy Lord Is Risen. Sing His Praise Without Delays, Who Takes Thee By The Hand, That Thou Likewise With Him Mayst Rise: That, As His Death Calcined Thee To Dust, His Life May Make Thee Gold, And, Much More, Just.

Every Mile Is Two In Winter

Everyone Is A Master And Servant.

The Beast That Goes Alwaies Never Wants Blowes.