Who Hath No Head, Needes No Heart.

Who Sweeps A Room, As For Thy Laws, Makes That And The Action Fine.

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

An Oxe Is Taken By The Horns, And A Man By The Tongue.

To Weepe For Joy Is A Kinde Of Manna.

Who Hath Bitter In His Mouth, Spits Not All Sweet.