The Tongues Of Dying Men Enforce Attention

Good Hay, Sweet Hay, Hath No Fellow.

Now, Neighbor Confines, Purge You Of Your Scum! Have You A Ruffian That Will Swear, Drink, Dance, Revel The Night, Rob, Murder, And Commit The Oldest Sins The Newest Kind Of Ways?

All's Well If All Ends Well.

Every Subject's Duty Is The Kings, But Every Subject's Soul Is His Own.

O Thou That Dost Inhabit In My Breast, Leave Not The Mansion So Long Tenantless; Lest, Growing Ruinous, The Building Fall And Leave No Memory Of What It Was!