He That Unburied Lies Wants Not His

As Sins Proceed They Ever Multiply, And Like Figures In Arithmetic, The Last Stands For More Than All That Wert Before It.

I Can Cure The Gout Or Stone In Some, Sooner Than Divinity, Pride, Or Avarice In Others.

Affection Should Not Be Too Sharp Eyed, And Love Is Not Made By Magnifying Glasses.

Lord Deliver Me From Myself.

Sleep Is A Death, O Make Me Try By Sleeping, What It Is To Die, And As Gently Lay My Head On My Grave, As Now My Bed.