You Cannot Flea A Stone.

Ready Mony Is A Ready Medicine.

Shew Me A Lyer, And I'le Shew Thee A Theefe.

Shewa Good Man His Errour And He Turnes It To A Vertue, But An Ill, It Doubles His Fault.

He That Will Learn To Pray, Let Him Go To Sea.

I Envy No Man's Nightingale Or Spring; Nor Let Them Punish Me With Loss Of Rhyme, Who Plainly Say, My God, My King.