Giving Is Dead, Restoring Very Sicke.

Giving Is Dead, Restoring Very Sicke.

If Thou Do Ill, The Joy Fades, Not The Pains. If Well, The Pain Doth Fade, The Joy Remains.

Shall I, To Please Another Wine-sprung Minde, Lose All Mine Own? God Hath Giv'n Me A Measure Short Of His Can And Body; Must I Find A Pain In That, Wherein He Finds A Pleasure?

The Higher The Ape Goes, The More He Shewes His Taile. [the Higher The Ape Goes, The More He Shows His Tail.]

Hee Will Spend A Whole Yeares Rent At One Meales Meate.