War Is No Strife To The Dark

Go, Bid The Soldiers Shoot.

This Day's Black Fate On More Days Doth Depend; This But Begins The Woe, Others Must End.

Full Oft We See Cold Wisdom Waiting On Superfluous Folly.

Patch Up Thine Old Body For Heaven.

When Remedies Are Past, The Griefs Are Ended By Seeing The Worst, Which Late On Hopes Depended. To Mourn A Mischief That Is Past And Gone Is The Next Way To Draw New Mischief On. What Cannot Be Preserved When Fortune Takes, Patience Her Injury A Mockery Makes. The Robb'd That Smiles Steals Something For The Thief; He Robs Himself That Spends A Bootless Grief.