The Fox Knowes Much, But More He

Dry Bread At Home Is Better Then Rost Meate Abroad.

Thornes Whiten Yet Doe Nothing.

Vertue Never Growes Old.

Shall I, To Please Another Wine-sprung Minde, Lose All Mine Own? God Hath Giv'n Me A Measure Short Of His Can And Body; Must I Find A Pain In That, Wherein He Finds A Pleasure?

Anothers Bread Costs Deare.