The Path Is Smooth That Leadeth On

Would It Not Grieve A Woman To Be Over-mastered By A Piece Of Valiant Dust? To Make An Account Of Her Life To A Clod Of Wayward Marle?

But Men Are Men; The Best Sometimes Forget.

Though Yet Of Hamlet Our Dear Brother's Death The Memory Be Green.

Winter, Which, Being Full Of Care, Makes Summer's Welcome Thrice More Wish'd, More Rare.

In Time The Savage Bull Doth Bear The Yoke.