For Whose Sake, Henceforth, All

The Burnt Child Dreads The Fire.

Thy Praise Or Dispraise Is To Me Alike; One Doth Not Stroke Me, Nor The Other Strike.

A Good Man Will Avoid The Spot Of Any Sin. The Very Aspersion Is Grievous, Which Makes Him Choose His Way In His Life, As He Would In His Journey.

Mischiefs Feed / Like Beasts, Till They Be Fat, And Then They Bleed.

O, For An Engine, To Keep Back All Clocks, Or Make The Sun Forget His Motion!