To Whirle The Eyes Too Much Shewes

He That Contemplates Hath A Day Without Night.

No Profit To Honour, No Honour To Religion.

Old Men Go To Death, Death Comes To Young Men.

The Absent Partie Is Still Faultie.

When God At First Made Man, Having A Glass Of Blessings Standing By, 'let Us,'said He,'pour On Him All We Can: Let The World's Riches, Which Disperse' D Lie, Contract Into A Span'.