Give Me A Bowl Of Wine, In

In Black Ink My Love May Still Shine Bright.

The Sands Are Number'd That Make Up My Life; Here Must I Stay, And Here My Life Must End.

All That Glitters Is Not Gold; Often Have You Heard That Told: Many A Man His Life Has Sold But My Outside To Behold: Gilded Tombs Do Worms Enfold Had You Been As Wise As Bold, Your In Limbs, In Judgment Old, Your Answer Had Not Been In'scroll'd Fare You Well: Your Suit Is Cold.' Cold, Indeed, And Labour Lost: Then, Farewell, Heat And Welcome, Frost!

It Is Held That Valor Is The Chiefest Virtue, And Most Dignifies The Haver.

Grief Best Is Pleased With Grief's Society.