O Death, O Beyond, Thou Art Sweet,

The English Have A Scornful Insular Way Of Calling The French Light.

It Is Difficult To Get Rid Of People When You Once Have Given Them Too Much Pleasure.

Free Men Freely Work: Whoever Fears God, Fears To Sit At Ease.

He's Just, Your Cousin, Ay, Abhorrently, He'd Wash His Hands In Blood, To Keep Them Clean.

And I Must Bear What Is Ordained With Patience, Being Aware Necessity Doth Front The Universe With An Invincible Gesture.