What If Earth Be But The Shadow

Who, As They Sung, Would Take The Prison'd Soul And Lap It In Elysium.

The Gay Motes That People The Sunbeams.

We Should Be Wary What Persecution We Raise Against The Living Labors Of Public Men, How We Spill That Seasoned Life Of Man, Preserved And Stored Up In Books, Since We See A Kind Of Homicide May Be Thus Committed, Sometimes A Martyrdom; And If It Extend To The Whole Impression, A Kind Of Massacre, Whereof The Execution Ends Not In The Slaying Of An Elemental Life, But Strikes At The Ethereal And Fifth Essence, The Breath Of Reason Itself; Slays An Immortality Rather Than A Life.

Zeal And Duty Are Not Slow But On Occasion's Forelock Watchful Wait.

Lords Are Lordliest In Their Wine.