A Caske And An Ill Custome Must

The Ill That Comes Out Of Our Mouth Falles Into Our Bosome.

Giving Is Dead, Restoring Very Sicke.

A Morning Sunne, And A Wine-bred Child, And A Latin-bred Woman, Seldome End Well.

The World Is Now Adayes, God Save The Conquerour.

Hee A Beast Doth Die, That Hath Done No Good To His Country.