Death Hath So Many Doors To Let

Wine Works The Heart Up, Wakes The Wit; There Is No Cure 'gainst Age But It. And 'tis Late And Cold, Stir Up The Fire; Sit Close And Draw The Table Nigher; Be Merry And Drink Wine That Is Old, A Hearty Medicine 'gainst The Cold.

A Woman Friend! He That Believes That Weakness, Steers In A Stormy Night Without A Compass.

'tis Virtue, And Not Birth That Makes Us Noble: Great Actions Speak Great Minds, And Such Should Govern.

Ask How To Live? Write, Write, Write, Anything; The World's A Fine Believing World, Write News.

Weep No More, Nor Sigh, Nor Groan, Sorrow Calls No Time That 's Gone; Violets Plucked, The Sweetest Rain Makes Not Fresh Nor Grow Again.