For the same man to be an heretick and a good subject, is incompossible.
Ill natures, the more you aske them, the more they stick.
He that feares leaves, let him not goe into the wood.
Church bells beyond the stars heard, the soul's blood, The land of spices; something understood.
Vnder water, famine; under snow, bread.
He that takes not up a pin, slights his wife.