A Sad Tale's Best For Winter. I

Glory Is Like A Circle In The Water

He Must Needs Go That The Devil Drives.

The Instruments Of Darkness Tell Us Truths.

O' Thinkest Thou We Shall Ever Meet Again? I Doubt It Not; And All These Woes Shall Serve For Sweet Discourses In Our Times To Come.

May Never Glorious Sun Reflex His Beams Upon The Country Where You Make Abode! But Darkness And The Gloomy Shade Of Death Environ You Till Mischief And Despair Drive You To Break Your Necks Or Hang Yourselves.