Halfe The World Knowes Not How The

God Complaines Not, But Doth What Is Fitting.

Grief Melts Away Like Snow In May, As If There Were No Such Cold Thing.

He That Is Not Handsome At 20, Nor Strong At 30, Nor Rich At 40, Nor Wise At 50, Will Never Be Handsome, Strong, Rich Or Wise.

If Folly Were Griefe Every House Would Weepe. [if Folly Were Grief, Every House Would Weep.]

Prosperity Lets Goe The Bridle.