Take Heed Of A Young Wench, A

The Germans Wit Is In His Fingers.

Summe Up At Night What Thou Hast Done By Day; And In The Morning What Thou Hast To Do. Dresse And Undresse Thy Soul; Mark The Decay And Growth Of It; If, With Thy Watch, That Too Be Down Then Winde Up Both; Since We Shall Be Most Surely Judg'd, Make Thy Accounts Agree.

Be Thrifty, But Not Covetous.

The Apothecaries Morter Spoiles The Luters Musick.

In An Hundred Elles Of Contention, There Is Not An Inch Of Love.