What Showers Arise, Blown With

Being Holiday, The Beggar's Shop Is Shut.

Do Not For One Repulse, Forego The Purpose That You Resolved To Effect.

If Thou Art Rich, Thou Art Poor; For, Like An Ass, Whose Back With Ingots Bows, Thou Bearest Thy Heavy Riches But A Journey, And Death Unloads Thee.

Tis A Happy Thing To Be The Father Unto Many Sons.

Nothing 'gainst Times Scythe Can Make Defence.