The Best Is Yet To Come.

What Should A Man Do But Be Merry? For Look You How Cheerfully My Mother Looks, And My Father Died Within's Two Hours.

Tis A Cruelty To Load A Fallen Man.

Sweet Flowers Are Slow And Weeds Make Haste.

A Virtuous And A Christianlike Conclusion-- To Pray For Them That Have Done Scathe To Us.

Well-apparel'd April On The Heel Of Limping Winter Treads.