Wisely Weigh Our Sorrow With Our Comfort.

Shall I Not Take Mine Ease In Mine Inn But I Shall Have My Pocket Picked?

Nothing Comes From Doing Nothing.

For This, Be Sure, Tonight Thou Shalt Have Cramps, Side-stitches That Shall Pen Thy Breath Up. Urchins Shall Forth At Vast Of Night That They May Work All Exercise On Thee. Thou Shalt Be Pinched As Thick As Honeycomb, Each Pinch More Stinging Than Bees That Made 'em.

He That Keeps Not Crust Nor Crum Weary Of All, Shall Want Some.

God Grant Us Patience!