Care Is No Cure, But

Tired With All These For Restful Death I Cry, As To Behold Desert A Beggar Born, And Needy Nothing Trimmed In Jollity, And Purest Faith Unhappily Forsworn.

Death Is My Son-in-law, Death Is My Heir.

Patch Grief With Proverbs.

Is It Not Strange, That Sheep's Guts Should Hale Souls Out Of Men's Bodies!

A Man Loves The Meat In His Youth That He Cannot Endure In His Age.