Bee Not A Baker, If Your Head

In Solitude, Be A Multitude To Thyself.

To A Great Night, A Great Lanthorne.

Neither Eyes On Letters, Nor Hands In Coffers.

Only A Sweet And Virtuous Soul, Like Season'd Timbered, Never Gives; But Though The Whole World Turn To Coal, Then Chiefly Lives.

A Penny Spar'd Is Twice Got.