Memory, The Warder Of The Brain.

Mean And Mighty, Rotting Together, Have One Dust.

Love Is My Sin, And Thy Dear Virtue Hate, Hate Of My Sin, Grounded On Sinful Loving.

Be Merry; You Have Cause, So Have We All, Of Joy; For Our Escape Is Much Beyond Our Loss . . . . Then Wisely Weigh Our Sorrow With Our Comfort.

Our Praises Are Our Wages.

I Wonder That You Will Still Be Talking. Nobody Marks You.