Hereditary Sloth Instructs Me.

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

The Tongues Of Mocking Wenches Are As Keen As Is The Razor's Edge Invisible.

Bounty, Being Free Itself, Thinks All Others So.

Let's Talk Of Graves, Of Worms, And Epitaphs; Make Dust Our Paper, And With Rainy Eyes Write Sorrow On The Bosom Of The Earth.... [w]hat Can We Bequeath, Save Our Deposed Bodies To The Ground?... [n]othing Can We Call Our Own, But Death... [l]et Us Sit Upon The Ground, And Tell Sad Stories Of The Death Of Kings: - How Some Have Been Depos'd, Some Slain In War; Some Haunted By The Ghosts They Have Depos'd.

Man And Wife, Being Two, Are One In Love.