If All Fooles Had Babies, Wee Should

By The Needle You Shall Draw The Thread, And By That Which Is Past, See How That Which Is To Come Will Be Drawne On.

After So Many Deaths I Live And Write.

An Ill Labourer Quarrells With His Tooles.

The Worst Of Law Is, That One Suit Breedes Twenty. [the Worst Of Law Is That One Suit Breeds Twenty.]

Reckon Right, And February Hath One And Thirty Daies.