With Mirth In Funeral And With Dirge

The Violence Of Either Grief Or Joy, Their Own Enactures With Themselves Destroy.

Superfluity Comes Sooner By White Hairs, But Competency Lives Longer.

Mechanic Slaves With Greasy Aprons, Rules, And Hammers, Shall Uplift Us To The View.

When We Our Betters See Bearing Our Woes, We Scarcely Think Our Miseries Our Foes.

O Madam, My Old Heart Is Cracked, It's Cracked!