I'll Fight, Till From My Bones My

The Labor We Delight In Physics [cures] Pain.

In Peace There's Nothing So Becomes A Man As Modest Stillness And Humility.

I Am Sir Oracle, And When I Ope My Lips, Let No Dog Bark.

God Shall Be My Hope, My Stay, My Guide And Lantern To My Feet.

Have You Not A Moist Eye, A Dry Hand, A Yellow Cheek, A White Beard, A Decreasing Leg, An Increasing Belly? Is Not Your Voice Broken, Your Wind Short, Your Chin Double, Your Wit Single, And Every Part About You Blasted With Antiquity?