they are like children playing together in the street, who cry, we have play'd to you on the flute, but you have not danced: we have sung mournful dittys, but you have not lamented.

now if God thus cloaths the flowers, which exist to-day in the field, and to-morrow are thrown into the oven: how much more will he cloath you, O distrustful men?

Who of you having a servant, that plows, or feeds your cattle, will immediately upon his coming from field, say to him, come and sit at table?

eating and drinking, marriages and matches was the business till the very day that Noah entred into the ark, when the flood came and overwhelm'd them all.

then let not him that is on the house-top venture down to secure his furniture: and he that is in the field, let him not return back.

two men shall be in the field, the one shall be taken, and the other left.

they made him blind-fold, they slapt him on the face, and cry'd out, divine who it was that smote thee.