To The Counsel Of Fools A Wooden

Cruelty Is More Cruell, If We Defer The Pain.

God Comes To See Without A Bell.

That Flesh Is But The Glasse, Which Holds The Dust That Measures All Our Time; Which Also Shall Be Crumbled Into Dust.

For Washing His Hands, None Sels His Lands.

A Sleepy Master Makes His Servant A Lowt.