He Is Well Paid That Is Well

Death, That Hath Suck'd The Honey Of Thy Breath Hath Had No Power Yet Upon Thy Beauty.

Blessings Of Your Heart, You Brew Good Ale.

He Hath A Heart As Sound As A Bell, And His Tongue Is The Clapper; For What His Heart Thinks His Tongue Speaks.

Ask God For Temp'rance. That's Th' Appliance Only Which Your Disease Requires.

Fruits That Blossom First Will First Be Ripe.