Only a sweet and virtuous soul, like seasoned timber, never gives.

Only a sweet and virtuous soul, like seasoned timber, never gives.

Hee that hath a wife and children wants not businesse.

Sweet spring, full of sweet days and roses, a box where sweets compacted lie.

The tongue talkes at the heads cost.

This world is nothing except it tend to another.

Fear keepes and looks to the vineyard, and not the owner.