Patch Up Thine Old Body For Heaven.

I Do I Know Not What, And Fear To Find Mine Eye Too Great A Flatterer For My Mind. Fate, Show Thy Force. Ourselves We Do Not Owe. What Is Decreed Must Be; And Be This So.

Death, As The Psalmist Saith, Is Certain To All, All Shall Die.

You Shall More Command With Years Than With Your Weapons.

The Proverb Is Something Musty.

Woe To That Land That's Governed By A Child.