Hee That Burnes His House

When War Begins, Then Hell Openeth.

He That Pitties Another, Remembers Himselfe.

Before You Make A Friend, Eate A Bushell Of Salt With Him.

Sorrow Was All My Soul; I Scarce Believed, Till Grief Did Tell Me Roundly, That I Lived.

No Barber Shaves So Close But Another Finds Worke.