Without Businesse Debauchery.

Sink Not In Spirit; Who Aimeth At The Sky Shoots Higher Much Than He That Means A Tree.

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

Let Thy Mind's Sweetness Have Its Operation Upon Thy Body, Clothes, And Habitation.

It Is A Poor Sport That Is Not Worth A Candle.

Willowes Are Weak, Yet They Bind Other Wood.