... And Death Unloads Thee.

Fight To The Last Gasp.

If It Be True That Good Wine Needs No Bush, 'tis True That A Good Play Needs No Epilogue.

This Fellow Pecks Up Wit, As Pigeons Peas; And Utters It Again When God Doth Please: He Is Wit's Pedler; And Retails His Wares.

His Heart As Far From Fraud As Heaven From Earth.

Why, Universal Plodding Poisons Up The Nimble Spirits In The Arteries, As Motion And Long-during Action Tires The Sinewy Vigor Of The Traveller.