The War Is Not Don So Long

Hee That Brings Good Newes Knockes Hard.

Musick Helps Not The Tooth-ach.

Wine-counsels Seldome Prosper.

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

Better A Snotty Child, Then His Nose Wip'd Off.