Words Pay No Debts, Give

See What A Ready Tongue Suspicion Hath!

Have I Caught Thee, My Heavenly Jewel? Why, Now Let Me Die, For I Have Lived Long Enough.

A Little Fire Is Quickly Trodden Out, Which, Being Suffer'd, Rivers Cannot Quench.

O Momentary Grace Of Mortal Men, Which We More Hunt For Than The Grace Of God!

I Cannot Tell What You And Other Men Think Of This Life; But, For My Single Self, I Had As Lief Not Be As Live To Be In Awe Of Such A Thing As I Myself.