He That Lends, Gives.

To Weepe For Joy Is A Kinde Of Manna.

He That Will Not Have Peace, God Gives Him Warre. [he That Will Not Have Peace, God Gives Him War.]

No Day So Clear But Hath Dark Clouds.

We Must Love, As Looking One Day To Hate.

I Read, And Sigh, And Wish I Were A Tree; For Sure Then I Should Grow To Fruit Or Shade: At Least Some Bird Would Trust Her Household To Me, And I Should Be Just.