To Offend And Judge Are Distinct Offices,

No Reckoning Made, But Sent To My Account With All My Imperfections On My Head.

'tis The Soldier's Life To Have Their Balmy Slumbers Waked With Strife.

I Rather Would Entreat Thy Company; To See The Wonders Of The World Abroad, Than, Living Dully Sluggardized At Home, Wear Out Thy Youth With Shapeless Idleness.

I Am Wrapped In Dismal Thinking.

Neither My Place, Nor Aught I Heard Of Business, Hath Raised Me From My Bed; Nor Doth The General Care Take Hold On Me; For My Particular Grief Is Of So Floodgate And O'erbearing Nature That It Engluts And Swallows Other Sorrows, And It Is Still Itself.