In Every Art It Is Good To

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.

No Barber Shaves So Close But Another Finds Worke.

He That Contemplates Hath A Day Without Night.

The Thorne Comes Forth With The Point Forwards.

He That Is Not Handsome At 20, Nor Strong At 30, Nor Rich At 40, Nor Wise At 50, Will Never Be Handsome, Strong, Rich Or Wise.