Give, If Thou Can, An Alms; If

In Things A Moderation Keep; Kings Ought To Shear, Not Skin, Their Sheep.

Well I Sup And Well I Dine, When I Drink My Frolic Wine.

In Sober Mornings Do Not Thou Rehearse The Holy Incantation Of A Verse

No, Not Jove Himselfe, At One Time, Can Be Wise And Love.

Let Wealth Come In By Comely Thrift, And Not By Any Sordid Shift; 't Is Haste Makes Waste; Extremes Have Still Their Fault. Who Gripes Too Hard The Dry And Slipp'ry Sand, Holds None At All, Or Little, In His Hand.