Virtue Hath No Tongue To Check Vice's

What Boots It At One Gate To Make Defence, And At Another To Let In The Foe?

Nor Love Thy Life, Nor Hate; But What Thou Livest, Live Well; How Long, Or Short, Permit To Heaven.

Sweet Intercourse Of Looks And Smiles; For Smiles From Reason Flow.

A Crown Golden In Show, Is But A Wreath Of Thorns, Bring Dangers, Troubles, Cares, And Sleepless Nights To Him Who Wears The Regal Diadem

Heaven Open'd Wide Her Ever During Gates, Harmonious Sound, On Golden Hinges Moving.