Beate The Dog Before The Lyon.

Water A Farre Off Quencheth Not Fire.

Drink Not The Third Glass, Which Thou Canst Not Tame, When Once It Is Within Thee; But Before Mayst Rule It, As Thou List: And Pour The Shame, Which It Would Pour On Thee, Upon The Floor. It Is Most Just To Throw That On The Ground, Which Would Throw Me There, If I Keep The Round.

He That Sings On Friday, Will Weepe On Sunday.

In A Long Journey Straw Waighs.

The Soule Needs Few Things, The Body Many.