He That Sings On Friday, Will Weepe

There Were No Ill Language, If It Were Not Ill Taken.

My House, My House, Though Thou Art Small, Thou Art To Me The Escurial.

A Man Is Known To Be Mortal By Two Things, Sleep And Lust.

He That Commits A Fault, Thinkes Every One Speakes Of It. [he That Commits A Fault Thinks Everyone Speaks Of It.]

Gossips Are Frogs, They Drinke And Talke.