Who Covets More Is Evermore A Slave.

Art Quickens Nature; Care Will Make A Face; Neglected Beauty Perisheth Apace.

Lord, 'tis Thy Plenty-dropping Hand That Soils My Land, And Giv'st Me For My Bushel Sowne Twice Ten For One. All This, And Better, Thou Dost Send Me, To This End, That I Should Render, For My Part, A Thankful Heart.

Love Is Maintain'd By Wealth: When All Is Spent, Adversity Then Breeds The Discontent.

Like Will To Like, Each Creature Loves His Kind.

When A Daffadill I See, Hanging Down His Head Towards Me, Guess I May, What I Must Be: First, I Shall Decline My Head; Secondly, I Shall Be Dead: Lastly, Safely Buryed.