Every Subject's Duty Is The

Poor And Content Is Rich, And Rich Enough.

This Goodly Frame, The Earth, Seems To Me A Sterile Promontory.

It Is A Sin To Be A Mocker.

Where Hateful Death Put On His Ugliest Mask.

With Mirth And Laughter Let Old Wrinkles Come. And Let My Liver Rather Heat With Wine, Than My Heart Cool With Mortifying Groans.