Affliction Is Enamoured Of Thy

Our Praises Are Our Wages.

You, And Your Lady, Take From My Heart All Thankfulness!

Tis Safter To Be That Which We Destroy Than By Destruction Dwell In Doubtful Joy.

You Are A Tedious Fool.

After Life's Fitful Fever He Sleeps Well. Treason Has Done His Worst. Nor Steel Nor Poison, Malice Domestic, Foreign Levy, Nothing Can Touch Him Further.