Ay, But To Die, And Go We

What Fates Impose, That Men Must Needs Abide; It Boots Not To Resist Both Wind And Tide.

All Men's Faces Are True, Whatsome'er Their Hands Are.

You Had Measured How Long A Fool You Were Upon The Ground.

Sin, That Amends, Is But Patched With Virtue.

Care Keeps His Watch In Every Old Man’s Eye, And Where Care Lodges, Sleep Will Never Lie.