To Take Up Half On Trust, And

How Happy The Lover, How Easy His Chain, How Pleasing His Pain, How Sweet To Discover He Sighs Not In Vain.

None But The Brave Deserve The Fair.

Since Every Man Who Lives Is Born To Die, And None Can Boast Sincere Felicity, With Equal Mind, What Happens, Let Us Bear, Nor Joy Nor Grieve Too Much For Things Beyond Our Care. Like Pilgrims To The' Appointed Place We Tend; The World's An Inn, And Death The Journey's End.

Murder May Pass Unpunishd For A Time, But Tardy Justice Will Oertake The Crime.

Ill Habits Gather Unseen Degrees, As Brooks Make Rivers, Rivers Run To Seas.