Maxioms by George Herbert
Every ill man hath his ill day.
Every ill man hath his ill day.
Sweet Spring, full of sweet dayes and roses,
A box where sweets compacted lie,
My musick shows read more
Sweet Spring, full of sweet dayes and roses,
A box where sweets compacted lie,
My musick shows ye have your closes,
And all must die.
Woe to the house where there is no chiding.
Woe to the house where there is no chiding.
He that lives well sees a farre off.
He that lives well sees a farre off.
Perversnes makes one squint ey'd.
Perversnes makes one squint ey'd.
