I Had Rather Stand The

Every Country Hath Its Machiavel.

Sleep Is A Death, O Make Me Try By Sleeping, What It Is To Die, And As Gently Lay My Head On My Grave, As Now My Bed.

There Is Nothing Strictly Immortal, But Immortality. Whatever Hath No Beginning May Be Confident Of No End.

Grave-stones Tell Truth Scarce Forty Years. Generations Pass While Families Last Not Three Oaks.

Art Is The Perfection Of Nature, ... Nature Is The Art Of God.