Never was strumpet faire.
God, and Parents, and our Master, can never be requited.
Who sweeps a room, as for Thy laws, makes that and the action fine.
A Caske and an ill custome must be broken.
Hee that falles into the durt, the longer he stayes there, the fowler he is.
With customes wee live well, but Lawes undoe us.