Still Fisheth He That Catcheth One.

Pull Downe Your Hatt On The Winds Side.

Little Journeys And Good Cost Bring Safe Home.

He Thinkes Not Well, That Thinkes Not Againe.

Pursue Not A Victory Too Far. He Hath Conquered Well That Hath Made His Enemy Fly; Thou Mayest Beat Him To A Desperate Resistance, Which May Ruin Thee.

Sweet Rose, Whose Hue, Angry And Brave, Bids The Rash Gazer Wipe His Eye, Thy Root Is Even In The Grave, And Thou Must Die.