Little Wealth, Little Care.

Criticks Are Like Brushers Of Noblemens Cloaths.

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

Sorrow Was All My Soul; I Scarce Believed, Till Grief Did Tell Me Roundly, That I Lived.

An Old Mans Staffe Is The Rapper Of Deaths Doore.

Death Keeps No Calendar.