Thou hast death in thy house, and dost bewaile anothers.
Fear keepes and looks to the vineyard, and not the owner.
The masters eye fattens the horse, and his foote the ground.
The child saies nothing, but what it heard by the fire.
Ah my deare God! though I am clean forgot, Let me not love thee, if I love thee not.
The slothful is the servant of the counters.