Sit By My Side, And Let The

Tired With All These For Restful Death I Cry, As To Behold Desert A Beggar Born, And Needy Nothing Trimmed In Jollity, And Purest Faith Unhappily Forsworn.

Life Is As Tedious As Twice-told Tale, Vexing The Dull Ear Of A Drowsy Man.

A Time, Methinks, Too Short To Make A World-without-end Bargain In.

Had I But Died An Hour Before This Chance, I Had Liv'd A Blessed Time; For, From This Instant, There's Nothing Serious In Mortality: All Is But Toys; Renown, And Grace Is Dead; The Wine Of Life Is Drawn, And The Mere Lees Is Left This Vault To Brag Of.

In Peace There's Nothing So Becomes A Man As Modest Stillness And Humility.