Three Women Make A Market.

Hee That Lives Ill, Feare Followes Him.

Without Favour None Will Know You, And With It You Will Not Know Your Selfe.

Had You The World On Your Chesse-bord, You Could Not Fill All To Your Mind.

All Things In Their Beeing Are Good For Something.

Listen, Sweet Dove, Unto My Song, And Spread Thy Golden Wings In Me; Hatching My Tender Heart So Long, Till It Get Wing, And Flie Away With Thee.