That Thou Remember Them, Some

To Rage, To Lust, To Write To, To Commend, All Is The Purlieu Of The God Of Love.

When My Mouth Shall Be Filled With Dust, And The Worm Shall Feed, And Feed Sweetly Upon Me, When The Ambitious Man Shall Have No Satisfaction If The Poorest Alive Tread Upon Him, Nor The Poorest Receive Any Contentment In Being Made Equal To Princes, For They Shall Be Equal But In Dust.

Religion Is Not A Melancholy, The Spirit Of God Is Not A Damper.

All Occasions Invite His Mercies, And All Times Are His Seasons.

If They Be Two, They Are Two So As Stiff Twin Compasses Are Two, Thy Soul The Fixt Foot, Makes No Show To Move, But Doth, If The Other Do.