Favour Will As Surely Perish As Life.

Marry A Widdow Before She Leave Mourning.

Sorrow Was All My Soul; I Scarce Believed, Till Grief Did Tell Me Roundly, That I Lived.

Criticks Are Like Brushers Of Noblemens Cloaths.

Though The Mastiffe Be Gentile, Yet Bite Him Not By The Lippe.

The Wearer Knowes, Where The Shoe Wrings.