The Hole Calls The Thiefe.

The Hearts Letter Is Read In The Eyes.

He That Riseth Betimes Hath Some Thing In His Head.

He That Hath No Hony In His Pot, Let Him Have It In His Mouth.

That Flesh Is But The Glasse, Which Holds The Dust That Measures All Our Time; Which Also Shall Be Crumbled Into Dust.

Of All Smells, Bread; Of All Tastes, Salt.