Criticks Are Like Brushers Of Noblemens Cloaths.

God's Breath In Man Returning To His Birth, The Soul In Paraphrase, Heart In Pilgrimage.

Better Never Begin Than Never Make An End.

He That Is Surprized With The First Frost Feeles It All The Winter After.

Well May Hee Smell Fire, Whose Gowne Burnes.

Keep Good Company, And You Shall Be Of The Number.