He That Mockes A Cripple, Ought To

Wee Leave More To Do When Wee Dye, Then Wee Have Done.

To Be Too Busie Gets Contempt.

If Thou Do Ill, The Joy Fades, Not The Pains. If Well, The Pain Doth Fade, The Joy Remains.

He Hath Great Neede Of A Foole, That Plaies The Foole Himselfe.

Hee That Hath Charge Of Soules Transports Them Not In Bundles.