It Is A Poor Sport That Is

The Dog That Licks Ashes, Trust Not With Meale. [the Dog That Licks Ashes Trust Not With Meal.]

From A Chollerick Man Withdraw A Little; From Him That Saies Nothing, For Ever. [from A Choleric Man Withdraw A Little; From Him That Says Nothing, For Ever.]

You Cannot Make A Wind-mill Goe With A Paire Of Bellowes.

Listen, Sweet Dove, Unto My Song, And Spread Thy Golden Wings In Me; Hatching My Tender Heart So Long, Till It Get Wing, And Flie Away With Thee.

He That Pitties Another, Remembers Himselfe.