Let Every Man Be Master Of His

Wait For The Season When To Cast Good Counsels Upon Subsiding Passion.

I Am Joined With No Foot Land-rakers, No Long-staff, Sixpenny Strikers, None Of These Mad, Mustachio Purple-hued Maltworms, But With Nobility And Tranquillity.

When Heaven Doth Weep, Doth Not The Earth O'erflow? If The Winds Rage, Doth Not The Sea Wax Mad, Threatening The Welkin With His Big-swollen Face?

But Thought's The Slave Of Life, And Life Time's Fool.

O The World Is But A Word; Were It All Yours To Give It In A Breath, How Quickly Were It Gone!