Make Ducks And Drakes With Shillings.

An Ill Weed Grows Apace.

Blood, Though It Sleep A Time, Yet Never Dies. The Gods On Murtherers Fix Revengeful Eyes.

Man Is A Torch Borne In The Wind; A Dream But Of A Shadow, Summed With All His Substance.

Perfect Happiness, By Princes Sought, Is Not With Birth Born, Nor Exchequers Bought.

Let Pride Go Afore, Shame Will Follow After.