The First Blow Is As Much As

The Chollerick Drinkes, The Melancholick Eats, The Flegmatick Sleepes.

The Slothful Is The Servant Of The Counters.

I Envy No Man's Nightingale Or Spring; Nor Let Them Punish Me With Loss Of Rhyme, Who Plainly Say, My God, My King.

God Heales, And The Physitian Hath The Thankes.

Cruelty Is More Cruell, If We Defer The Pain.