God Comes To See Without A Bell.

A Pittifull Looke Askes Enough.

Summe Up At Night What Thou Hast Done By Day; And In The Morning What Thou Hast To Do. Dresse And Undresse Thy Soul; Mark The Decay And Growth Of It; If, With Thy Watch, That Too Be Down Then Winde Up Both; Since We Shall Be Most Surely Judg'd, Make Thy Accounts Agree.

You Cannot Make The Fire So Low But It Will Get Out.

We Must Recoile A Little, To The End We May Leap The Better.

Hee That Eats The Hard Shall Eate The Ripe.