Rince Pytcher is he that will drinke out his thrift at the ale or wine, and be oft times dronke. This is a licoryce knaue that will swill his Maisters drink, and brybe his meate that is kept for him.]

Iu. 'Tis but thy name that is my Enemy: Thou art thy ſelfe... What's in a name? That which we call a Roſe, By any other word would ſmell as ſweete...

Not one momentall minute doth she swerve

[…] any present thirstings for God, or ardent outgoings of their souls after divine objects […]