Honour Without Profit Is A Ring On

A Broken Altar, Lord, Thy Servant Rears, Made Of A Heart, And Cemented With Tears.

They That Are Booted Are Not Alwaies Ready.

Who Hath None To Still Him, May Weepe Out His Eyes. [who Hath None To Still Him, May Weep Out His Eyes.]

God Strikes With His Finger, And Not With All His Arm.

The Wolf Must Die In His Own Skin.