There be foure good mothers have foure bad daughters: Trueth hath Hatred; Prosperity hath Pride; Security hath Perill; and Familiarity hath Contempt. - Elizabeth Grimston

A faire woman is a paradise to the eye, a purgatorye to the purse, and a hell to the soule.

Crush the serpent in the head, </br> Break ill egs yer they be hatched. </br> Kill bad chickens in the tread, </br> Fledge[d] they hardly can be catched. </br> In the rising stifle ill, </br> Lest it grow against thy will.

Our best life is to die well: for living here we enjoy nothing: things past are dead and gone: things present are alwayes ending: things future alwayes beginning: while we live we die; and we leave dying, when we leave living.