Everyone Thinks His Sack Heaviest.

A Journying Woman Speakes Much Of All, And All Of Her.

Sweet Rose, Whose Hue, Angry And Brave, Bids The Rash Gazer Wipe His Eye, Thy Root Is Even In The Grave, And Thou Must Die.

Good Swimmers At Length Are Drowned.

Storms Make The Oak Grow Deeper Roots.

If A Good Man Thrive, All Thrive With Him.