Who Ever Loved That Loved Not At

What Are Kings, When Regiment Is Gone, But Perfect Shadows In A Sunshine Day?

Time Doth Run With Calm And Silent Foot, Shortening My Days And Thread Of Vital Life.

The Griefs Of Private Men Are Soon Allayed, But Not Of Kings.

Lone Women, Like To Empty Houses, Perish.

Things That Are Not At All, Are Never Lost.