I Escaped The Thunder, And

In Cloths Cheap Handsomeness, Doth Bear The Bell.

He That Deales In The World Needes Foure Seeves.

Conversation Makes One What He Is.

He That Owes Nothing, If He Makes Not Mouthes At Us, Is Courteous.

By The Needle You Shall Draw The Thread, And By That Which Is Past, See How That Which Is To Come Will Be Drawne On.