He Lives Unsafely, That Lookes Too Neere

Many Kiss The Hand They Wish Cut Off.

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?

When All Men Have What Belongs To Them, It Cannot Bee Much. [when All Men Have What Belongs To Them, It Cannot Be Much.]

In War, Hunting, And Love, Men For One Pleasure A Thousand Griefes Prove.

A Drunkards Purse Is A Bottle.