No Reckoning Made, But Sent To My

So Long As Men Can Breathe, Or Eyes Can See, So Long Lives This, And This Gives Life To Thee.

O Madam, My Old Heart Is Cracked, It's Cracked!

Though Patience Be A Tired Mare, Yet She Will Plod.

Your Cause Of Sorrow Must Not Be Measured By His Worth, For Then It Hath No End.

Divers Philosophers Hold That The Lips Is Parcel Of The Mouth.