God's Mill Grinds Slow, But Sure.

A Kinsman, A Friend, Or Whom You Intreate, Take Not To Serve You, If You Will Be Served Neately.

Bees Work For Man, And Yet They Never Bruise Their Master's Flower, But Leave It Having Done, As Fair As Ever And As Fit To Use; So Both The Flower Doth Stay And Honey Run.

Nothing Is To Be Presumed On, Or Despaired Of.

Hee That Lies Long A Bed, His Estate Feeles It.

Love Bade Me Welcome, But My Soul Drew Back.