To Fine Folkes A Little Ill Finely

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

A Horse Stumbles That Hath Foure Legges. [a Horse Stumbles That Has Four Legs.]

To Seek These Things Is Lost Labour; Geese In An Oyle Pot, Fat Hogs Among Jews, And Wine In A Fishing Net.

Reason Lies Betweene The Spurre And The Bridle. [reason Lies Between The Spur And The Bridle.]

Only A Sweet And Virtuous Soul, Like Seasoned Timber, Never Gives.