Good Horses Make Short Miles.

The Germans Wit Is In His Fingers.

To Write A Verse Or Two Is All The Praise That I Can Raise.

When A Lackey Comes To Hells Doore, The Devills Locke The Gates.

Hee That's Fed At Anothers Hand May Stay Long Ere He Be Full.

He That Hopes Not For Good, Feares Not Evill.