Pains Of Love Be Sweeter Far Than

Let Grace And Goodness Be The Principal Loadstone Of Thy Affections.

Here Lies My Wife: Here Let Her Lie! Now She's At Rest, And So Am I.

She, Though In Full-blown Flower Of Glorious Beauty, Grows Cold Even In The Summer Of Her Age.

Ill Habits Gather Unseen Degrees, As Brooks Make Rivers, Rivers Run To Seas.

To Draw True Beauty Shows A Master's Hand.