On Pain Of Death, No Person Be

Awake, Dear Heart, Awake. Thou Hast Slept Well. Awake.

For The Success, Although Particular, Shall Give A Scantling Of Good Or Bad Unto The General; And In Such Indexes, Although Small Pricks To Their Subsequent Volumes, There Is Seen The Baby Figure Of The Giant Mass Of Things To Come At Large.

The Weight Of This Sad Time We Must Obey, Speak What We Feel, Not What We Ought To Say. The Oldest Hath Borne Most: We That Are Young Shall Never See So Much, Nor Live So Long.

The Hand That Hath Made You Fair Hath Made You Good.

Sweet Mercy Is Nobility's True Badge.