The Still Sowe Eats Up

No Man Loveth His Fetters, Be They Made Of Gold.

Good To Be Merie And Wise.

Tis Not The Robe Or Garment I Affect; For Who Would Marry With A Suit Of Clothes?

It Had Need To Bee A Wylie Mouse That Should Breed In The Cats Eare.

Who Waiteth For Dead Man's Shoes Will Go Long Barefoot.