We May Outrun By Violent Swiftness And

Look How The World's Poor People Are Amazed At Apparitions, Signs And Prodigies!

Bell, Book And Candle Shall Not Drive Me Back, When Gold And Silver Becks Me To Come On.

Women Being The Weaker Vessels, Are Ever Thrust To The Walls.

Why, All Delights Are Vain, But That Most Vain Which, With Pain Purchased, Doth Inherit Pain: As, Painfully To Pore Upon A Book, To Seek The Light Of Truth, Which Truth The While Doth Falsely Blind The Eyesight Of His Look.

Words Pay No Debts, Give Her Deeds.