Maxioms by George Herbert
Evening words are not like to morning.
Evening words are not like to morning.
Night is the mother of Councels.
Night is the mother of Councels.
He quits his place well, that leaves his friend there.
He quits his place well, that leaves his friend there.
Bees work for man, and yet they never bruise
Their Master's flower, but leave it having done,
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Bees work for man, and yet they never bruise
Their Master's flower, but leave it having done,
As fair as ever and as fit to use;
So both the flower doth stay and honey run.
Though the Mastiffe be gentile, yet bite him not by the lippe.
Though the Mastiffe be gentile, yet bite him not by the lippe.
