Feed Him Ye Must, Whose

None Pities Him That Is In The Snare, Who Warned Before, Would Not Beware.

Oft Have I Heard Both Youths And Virgins Say, Birds Chuse Their Mates And Couple Too This Day: But By Their Flight I Never Can Devine When I Shall Couple With My Valentine.

Give, If Thou Can, An Alms; If Not, A Sweet And Gentle Word.

T Is The Will That Makes The Action Good Or Ill.

Let Wealth Come In By Comely Thrift, And Not By Any Sordid Shift; 't Is Haste Makes Waste; Extremes Have Still Their Fault. Who Gripes Too Hard The Dry And Slipp'ry Sand, Holds None At All, Or Little, In His Hand.