Prosperity Lets Goe The Bridle.

A Snow Yeare, A Rich Yeare.

Feare Keepes The Garden Better Then The Gardiner.

Though The Mastiffe Be Gentile, Yet Bite Him Not By The Lippe.

Of The Smells, Bread; Of The Tastes, Salt.

He That Hath No Good Trade, It Is To His Losse.