Two Ill Meales Make The Third A

To Deceive Ones Selfe Is Very Easie.

He That Will Take The Bird, Must Not Skare It.

By All Means Use Sometimes To Be Alone. Salute Thyself: See What Thy Soul Doth Wear. Dare To Look In Thy Chest; For 'tis Thine Own: And Tumble Up And Down What Thou Findst There. Who Cannot Rest Till He Good Fellows Find, He Breaks Up House, Turns Out Of Doors His Mind.

When Age Is Jocond It Makes Sport For Death. [when Age Is Jocund, It Makes Sport For Death.]

Of Faire Things, The Autumne Is Faire.