Thornes Whiten Yet Doe Nothing.

Losse Embraceth Shame.

To Weepe For Joy Is A Kinde Of Manna.

Let Thy Mind Still Be Bent, Still Plotting, Where, And When, And How Thy Business May Be Done. Slackness Breeds Worms; But The Sure Traveller, Though He Alights Sometimes Still Goeth On.

Though You See A Church-man Ill, Yet Continue In The Church Still.

A Penny Spar'd Is Twice Got.