O, Here Will I Set Up My

Like Madness, Is The Glory Of This Life.

For In My Youth I Never Did Apply Hot And Rebellious Liquors In My Blood.

To Die: - To Sleep: No More; And, By A Sleep To Say We End The Heart-ache And The Thousand Natural Shocks That Flesh Is Heir To, 'tis A Consummation Devoutly To Be Wished.

I Am Not Prone To Weeping As Our Sex Commonly Are; The Want Of Which Vain Dew Perchance Shall Dry Your Pities; But I Have That Honorable Grief Lodged Here Which Burns Worse Than Tears Drown.

'tis One Thing To Be Tempted, Another Thing To Fall.