There Are Three Waies, The Vniversities, The

In Solitude, Be A Multitude To Thyself.

The Mill Gets By Going.

Drink Not The Third Glass, Which Thou Canst Not Tame, When Once It Is Within Thee; But Before Mayst Rule It, As Thou List: And Pour The Shame, Which It Would Pour On Thee, Upon The Floor. It Is Most Just To Throw That On The Ground, Which Would Throw Me There, If I Keep The Round.

Wine Makes All Sorts Of Creatures At Table.

Either Wealth Is Much Increased, Or Moderation Is Much Decayed.