Punishment Is Lame, But It Comes.

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

He That Pitties Another, Remembers Himselfe.

He Puls With A Long Rope, That Waits For Anothers Death.

Neither Eyes On Letters, Nor Hands In Coffers.

Between The Businesse Of Life And The Day Of Death, A Space Ought To Be Interposed.