I Was Not Always A

Do Not Christians And Heathens, And Jews And Gentiles, And Poets And Philosophers, Unite In Allowing The Starry Influences?

It Is Only When I Dally With What I Am About, Look Back And Aside, Instead Of Keeping My Eyes Straight Forward, That I Feel These Cold Sinkings Of The Heart.

Here Is Neither Want Of Appetite Nor Mouths, Pray Heaven We Be Not Scant Of Meat Or Mirth.

One Crowded Hour Of Glorious Life Is Worth An Age Without A Name

Honour Is A Homicide And A Bloodspiller, That Gangs About Making Frays In The Street; But Credit Is A Decent Honest Man, That Sits At Hame And Makes The Pat Play.