Hee That Labours And Thrives

Give Me Simplicity, That I May Live, So Live And Like, That I May Know Thy Ways, Know Them And Practise Them: Then Shall I Give For This Poor Wreath, Give Thee A Crown Of Praise.

It's No Sure Rule To Fish With A Cros-bow.

Were It Not For The Bone In The Legge, All The World Would Turne Carpenters (to Make Them Crutches).

Money Wants No Followers.

Hee Begins To Die, That Quits His Desires.