Grief Best Is Pleased With Grief's Society.

If Men Could Be Contented To Be What They Are, There Were No Fear In Marriage.

'tis Dangerous To Take A Cold, To Sleep, To Drink; But I Tell You, My Lord Fool, Out Of This Nettle, Danger, We Pluck This Flower, Safety.

Why, Who Cries Out On Pride That Can Therein Tax Any Private Party? Doth It Not Flow As Hugely As The Sea Till The Weary Very Means Do Ebb?

O Wretched State! O Bosom Black As Death! O Limed Soul That, Struggling To Be Free, Art More Engaged! Help, Angels! Make Assay! Bow, Stubborn Knees! And, Heart With Strings Of Steel, Be Soft As Sinews Of The New-born Babe!

Prosperity's The Very Bond Of Love.