We Cannot All Be Masters.

Abate The Edge Of Traitors, Gracious Lord, That Would Reduce These Bloody Days Again And Make Poor England Weep In Streams Of Blood! Let Them Not Live To Taste This Land's Increase That Would With Treason Wound This Fair Land's Peace! Now Civil Wounds Are Stopped, Peace Lives Again: That She May Long Live Here, God Say Amen!

Go Wisely And Slowly. Those Who Rush Stumble And Fall.

If [god] Send Me No Husband, For The Which Blessing I Am At Him Upon My Knees Every Morning And Evening.

There Is Little Choice In A Barrel Of Rotten Apples.

The World Is Grown So Bad, That Wrens Make Prey Where Eagles Dare Not Perch.