Who Paies The Physitian, Does The Cure.

To Whirle The Eyes Too Much Shewes A Kites Braine.

Man Is All Symmetry, Full Of Proportions, One Limb To Another.

For A Morning Raine Leave Not Your Journey. [for A Morning Rain Leave Not Your Journey.]

Every Man's Censure Is First Moulded In His Own Nature.

Who Shuts His Hand Has Lost His Gold, Who Opens It Hath It Twice Told.