Wickedness Is Its Own Punishment.

Sweet Tastes Have Sour Closes; And He Repents On Thorns That Sleeps In Beds Of Roses.

As There Is No Worldly Gain Without Some Loss, So There Is No Worldly Loss Without Some Gain; If Thou Hast Lost Thy Wealth, Thou Hast Lost Some Trouble With It; If Thou Art Degraded From Thy Honor, Thou Art Likewise Freed From The Stroke Of Envy; If Sickness Hath Blurred Thy Beauty, It Hath Delivered Thee From Pride. Set The Allowance Against The Loss, And Thou Shalt Find No Loss Great; He Loses Little Or Nothing, That Reserves Himself.

O Lust, Thou Infernal Fire, Whose Fuel Is Gluttony; Whose Flame Is Pride, Whose Sparkles Are Wanton Words; Whose Smoke Is Infamy; Whose Ashes Are Uncleanness; Whose End Is Hell.

Let The Greatest Part Of The News Thou Hearest Be The Least Part Of What Thou Believest, Lest The Greater Part Of What Thou Believest Be The Least Part Of What Is True.

If Thy Words Be Too Luxuriant, Confine Them, Lest They Confine Thee; He That Thinks He Never Can Speak Enough May Easily Speak Too Much. A Full Tongue And An Empty Brain Are Seldom Parted.