The Fox, When Hee Cannot Reach The

Though You See A Church-man Ill, Yet Continue In The Church Still.

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

The Ill That Comes Out Of Our Mouth Falles Into Our Bosome.

Grief Melts Away Like Snow In May, As If There Were No Such Cold Thing.

Play Not For Gain, But Sport. Who Plays For More Than He Can Lose With Pleasure, Stakes His Heart; Perhaps His Wife's Too, And Whom She Hath Bore.