When All Thy Mercies, O My God,

Their Is No Defense Against Criticism Except Obscurity.

How Beautiful Is Death, When Earn'd By Virtue!

A Thousand Glorious Actions That Might Claim Triumphant Laurels, And Immortal Fame, Confus'd In Crowds Of Glorious Actions Lie, And Troops Of Heroes Undistinguished Die.

The Fear Of Death Often Proves Mortal.

In All Thy Humours, Whether Grave Or Mellow, Thou'rt Such A Touchy, Testy, Pleasant Fellow, Hast So Much Wit And Mirth And Spleen About Thee, There Is No Living With Thee, Nor Without Thee.