Now, Good Digestion Wait On

Good Hay, Sweet Hay, Hath No Fellow.

Either Our History Shall With Full Mouth Speak Freely Of Our Acts, Or Else Our Grave, Like Turkish Mute, Shall Have A Tongueless Mouth, Not Worshipped With A Waxen Epitaph.

The Purest Treasure Mortal Times Can Afford Is A Spotless Reputation.

The Golden Age Is Before Us, Not Behind Us.

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