In Sober Mornings Do Not Thou Rehearse

When One Is Past, Another Care We Have; Thus Woe Succeeds A Woe, As Wave A Wave.

Twixt Kings And Tyrants There's This Difference Known; Kings Seek Their Subjects' Good: Tyrants Their Own.

Let's Live With That Small Pittance Which We Have; Who Covets More Is Evermore A Slave.

Hell Is No Other But A Soundlesse Pit, Where No One Beame Of Comfort Peeps In It.

Bid Me To Love, And I Will Give A Loving Heart To Thee.