To Review Ones Store Is To Mow

The Royall Crowne Cures Not The Head-ach. [the Royal Crown Cures Not The Headache.]

Summe Up At Night What Thou Hast Done By Day; And In The Morning What Thou Hast To Do. Dresse And Undresse Thy Soul; Mark The Decay And Growth Of It; If, With Thy Watch, That Too Be Down Then Winde Up Both; Since We Shall Be Most Surely Judg'd, Make Thy Accounts Agree.

Of The Smells, Bread; Of The Tastes, Salt.

Money, Thou Bane Of Bliss, And Source Of Woe, Whence Cam'st Thou, That Thou Art So Fresh And Fine? I Know Thy Parentage Is Base And Low: Man Found Thee Poor And Dirty In A Mine.

Take Heed Of Winde That Comes In At A Hole, And A Reconciled Enemy.