Parsons Are Soules Waggoners.

The Masters Eye Fattens The Horse, And His Foote The Ground.

An Upbraided Morsell Never Choaked Any.

Hee That Would Be A Gentleman, Let Him Goe To An Assault.

Words And Feathers The Wind Carries Away.

I Know The Ways Of Pleasure, The Sweet Strains, The Lullings And The Relishes Of It.