We Have Seen Better Days.

He's Of The Colour Of The Nutmeg. And Of The Heat Of The Ginger.... He Is Pure Air And Fire; And The Dull Elements Of Earth And Water Never Appear In Him, But Only In Patient Stillness While His Rider Mounts Him; He Is Indeed A Horse, And All Other Jades You May Call Beasts.

However Wickedness Outstrips Men, It Has No Wings To Fly From God.

The Devil Can Cite Scripture For His Purpose.

The Seasons Alter: Hoary-headed Frosts Fall In The Fresh Lap Of The Crimson Rose.

A Virtuous And A Christianlike Conclusion-- To Pray For Them That Have Done Scathe To Us.