Just Death, Kind Umpire Of Men's Miseries.

All That Glisters Is Not Gold; Often Have You Heard That Told.

O Love, Be Moderate, Allay Thy Ecstasy, In Measure Rain Thy Joy, Scant This Excess!

Take It In What Sense Thou Wilt.

Whose Heart The Accustom'd Sight Of Death Makes Hard.

Man, Proud Man, Drest In A Little Brief Authority, Most Ignorant Of What He's Most Assur D, Glassy Essence, Like An Angry Ape, Plays Such Fantastic Tricks Before High Heaven, As Make The Angels Weep.