He That Has A House

Speak, What Trade Art Thou? Why, Sir, A Carpenter. Where Is Thy Leather Apron And Thy Rule? What Does Thou With Thy Best Apparel On?

Now See That Noble And Most Sovereign Reason, Like Sweet Bells Jangled, Out Of Tune And Harsh.

Had I But Died An Hour Before This Chance, I Had Liv'd A Blessed Time; For, From This Instant, There's Nothing Serious In Mortality: All Is But Toys; Renown, And Grace Is Dead; The Wine Of Life Is Drawn, And The Mere Lees Is Left This Vault To Brag Of.

When Workmen Strive To Do Better Than Well, They Do Confound Their Skill In Covetousness.

This Is The Third Time; I Hope Good Luck Lies In Odd Numbers. Away; Go. They Say There Is Divinity In Odd Numbers, Either In Nativity, Chance, Or Death.