Hee That Gets Out Of

To Speake Of An Vsurer At The Table Marres The Wine.

The Yeare Doth Nothing Else But Open And Shut.

One Father Is More Than A Hundred Schoolmasters.

Everyone Is A Master And Servant.

Shall I, To Please Another Wine-sprung Minde, Lose All Mine Own? God Hath Giv'n Me A Measure Short Of His Can And Body; Must I Find A Pain In That, Wherein He Finds A Pleasure?