The Command Of Custome Is Great.

For Want Of A Naile The Shoe Is Lost, For Want Of A Shoe The Horse Is Lost, For Want Of A Horse The Rider Is Lost.

It's A Dangerous Fire Begins In The Bed-straw.

When God At First Made Man, Having A Glass Of Blessings Standing By, 'let Us,'said He,'pour On Him All We Can: Let The World's Riches, Which Disperse' D Lie, Contract Into A Span'.

Every Thing New Is Fine.

The Wolfe Knowes, What The Ill Beast Thinkes.