Her Wit Was More Than Man, Her

A Man May Be Capable, As Jack Ketch's Wife Said Of His Servant, Of A Plain Piece Of Work, A Bare Hanging; But To Makea Malefactordiesweetly Was Only Belonging Toher Husband.

To Die Is Landing On Some Distant Shore.

Sure There Is None But Fears A Future State; And When The Most Obdurate Swear They Do Not, Their Trembling Hearts Belie Their Boasting Tongues.

Dead Men Tell No Tales.

Reason Is A Crutch For Age, But Youth Is Strong Enough To Walk Alone.