The first act's doubtful, but we say, it is the last commends the play.

Those Saints, which God loves best, The Devil tempts not least.

Like will to like, each creature loves his kind.

Seldom comes Glory till a man be dead.

Here a pretty Baby lies Sung asleep with Lullabies: Pray be silent, and not stirre The easie earth that covers her.

Who with a little cannot be content, endures an everlasting punishment.

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