Whatever Comes, Let's Be Content

Seldom Comes Glory Till A Man Be Dead.

For Pitty, Sir, Find Out That Bee Which Bore My Love Away I'le Seek Him In Your Bonnet Brave, I'le Seek Him In Your Eyes.

O Thou, The Drink Of Gods And Angels! Wine

The Body Is The Soul's Poor House Or Home, Whose Ribs The Laths Are And Whose Flesh The Loam.

In Things A Moderation Keep; Kings Ought To Shear, Not Skin, Their Sheep.