Into A Mouth Shut Flies Flie Not.

Sweet Rose, Whose Hue, Angry And Brave, Bids The Rash Gazer Wipe His Eye, Thy Root Is Even In The Grave, And Thou Must Die.

Ill Comes In By Ells, And Goes Out By Inches.

A Well-bred Youth Neither Speakes Of Himselfe, Nor Being Spoken To Is Silent.

He That Hath Little Is The Lesse Durtie.

Warre And Physicke Are Governed By The Eye.