With Mirth And Laughter Let Old Wrinkles

See, What A Ready Tongue Suspicion Hath! He That But Fears The Thing He Would Not Know, Hath, By Instinct, Knowledge From Others' Eyes, That What He Feared Is Chanced.

When That Churl Death My Bones With Dust Shall Cover.

One May Smile, And Smile, And Be A Villain.

When Death Doth Close His Tender Dying Eyes.

Speak What We Feel, Not What We Ought To Say.