He loves his bonds who, when the first are broke, Submits his neck into a second yoke.

Men are suspicious; prone to discontent: Subjects still loathe the present Government.

When a daffadill I see, Hanging down his head towards me, Guess I may, what I must be: First, I shall decline my head; Secondly, I shall be dead: Lastly, safely buryed.

The body is the soul's poor house or home, whose ribs the laths are and whose flesh the loam.

Tears are the noble language of the eye.

Give, if thou can, an alms; if not, a sweet and gentle word.

Whatever comes, let's be content withal: Among God's blessings there is no one small.