The Latter End Of Joy Is Woe.

Look Up On High, And Thank The God Of All.

That He Is Gentil That Doth Gentil Dedis.

The Devil Can Only Destroy Those Who Are Already On Their Way To Damnation.

For Many A Pasty Have You Robbed Of Blood, And Many A Jack Of Dover Have You Sold That Has Been Heated Twice And Twice Grown Cold. From Many A Pilgrim Have You Had Christ's Curse, For Of Your Parsley They Yet Fare The Worse, Which They Have Eaten With Your Stubble Goose; For In Your Shop Full Many A Fly Is Loose.

Woe To The Cook Whose Sauce Has No Sting.