So Shalt Thou Feed On Death, That

Eternity Was In Our Lips And Eyes, Bliss In Our Brows' Bent; None Our Parts So Poor But Was A Race Of Heaven.

To Hold, As 't Were, The Mirror Up To Nature.

The Readiness Is All.

Affection Is A Coal That Must Be Cooled; Else, Suffered, It Will Set The Heart On Fire.

When Workmen Strive To Do Better Than Well, They Do Confound Their Skill In Covetousness.