To A Boiling Pot Flies Come Not.

Hee That Lies Long A Bed, His Estate Feeles It.

Lend Only What You Can Afford To Lose.

Shall I, To Please Another Wine-sprung Minde, Lose All Mine Own? God Hath Giv'n Me A Measure Short Of His Can And Body; Must I Find A Pain In That, Wherein He Finds A Pleasure?

France Is A Meddow That Cuts Thrice A Yeere.

He Plaies Well That Winnes. [he Plays Well That Wins.]