He Makes A July's Day Short As

The King Hath Note Of All That They Intend, By Interception Which They Dream Not Of.

Virtue Is Beauty, But The Beauteous Evil. Are Empty Trunks O'erflourished By The Devil.

The Poorest Service Is Repaid With Thanks.

When That Churl Death My Bones With Dust Shall Cover.

Nor Stony Tower, Nor Walls Of Beaten Brass, Nor Airless Dungeon, Nor Strong Links Of Iron, Can Be Retentive To The Strength Of Spirit; But Life, Being Weary Of These Worldly Bars, Never Lacks Power To Dismiss Itself.