He Quits His Place Well,

Two Ill Meales Make The Third A Glutton.

Halfe The World Knowes Not How The Other Halfe Lies.

I Envy No Man's Nightingale Or Spring; Nor Let Them Punish Me With Loss Of Rhyme, Who Plainly Say, My God, My King.

None Knows The Weight Of Another's Burden.

Wouldst Thou Both Eat Thy Cake And Have It?