For the first fourteen years for a rod they do while for the next as a pearl in the world they do shine. For the next trim beauty beginneth to swerve. For the next matrons or drudges they serve. For the next doth crave a staff for a stay. For the next a bier to fetch them away.
As order is heavenly, where quiet is had, so error is hell, or a mischief as bad.
Who goeth a borrowing. Goeth a sorrowing.
Make hunger thy sauce, as a medicine for health.
What a greater crime. Than loss of time.
February, fill the dyke with what thou dost like.