Pity Melts The Mind To Love.

For All Have Not The Gift Of Martyrdom.

Rich The Treasure, Sweet The Pleasure,- Sweet Is Pleasure After Pain.

The Trumpet's Loud Clangor Excites Us To Arms.

A Man May Be Capable, As Jack Ketch's Wife Said Of His Servant, Of A Plain Piece Of Work, A Bare Hanging; But To Makea Malefactordiesweetly Was Only Belonging Toher Husband.

When Misfortune Is Asleep, Let No One Wake Her.