To The Counsell Of Fooles A Woodden

When A Man Sleepes, His Head Is In His Stomach.

Good Is To Bee Sought Out, And Evill Attended.

Who Hastens A Glutton Choakes Him.

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

Talking Payes No Toll.