The Bit That One Eates, No Friend

Money, Thou Bane Of Bliss, And Source Of Woe, Whence Cam'st Thou, That Thou Art So Fresh And Fine? I Know Thy Parentage Is Base And Low: Man Found Thee Poor And Dirty In A Mine.

Foolish Tongues Talke By The Dozen.

Who Letts His Wife Goe To Every Feast, And His Horse Drinke At Every Water, Shall Neither Have Good Wife Nor Good Horse.

Rivers Neede A Spring.

A Poore Beauty Finds More Lovers Then Husbands.