Shame On The Body For Breaking Down

Sure There Is None But Fears A Future State; And When The Most Obdurate Swear They Do Not, Their Trembling Hearts Belie Their Boasting Tongues.

Trust Reposed In Noble Natures Obliges Them The More.

Since Every Man Who Lives Is Born To Die, And None Can Boast Sincere Felicity, With Equal Mind, What Happens, Let Us Bear, Nor Joy Nor Grieve Too Much For Things Beyond Our Care. Like Pilgrims To The' Appointed Place We Tend; The World's An Inn, And Death The Journey's End.

To Take Up Half On Trust, And Half To Try, Name It Not Faith But Bungling Bigotry.

No King Nor Nation One Moment Can Retard The Appointed Hour.