All's Well That Ends Well.

And While I At Length Debate And Beate The Bush, There Shall Steppe In Other Men And Catch The Burdes.

Be Of Comfort, And Your Heavy Sorrow Part Equally Among Us; Storms Divided, Abate Their Force, And With Less Rage Are Guided.

What Heart Can Think, Or Tongue Express, The Harm That Groweth Of Idleness?

Put Your Toong In Your Purse.

Beggars Should Be No Choosers.