Suffer Love; A Good Epithet! I Do

He That Will Have A Cake Out Of The Wheat Must Tarry The Grinding.

I Crave Fit Disposition For My Wife; Due Reference Of Place, And Exhibition; With Such Accommodation, And Besort, As Levels With Her Breeding.

No Deeper Wrinkles Yet? Hath Sorrow Struck So Many Blows Upon This Face Of Mine And Made No Deeper Wounds?

The Best Is Yet To Come.

And Flights Of Angels Sing Thee To Thy Rest!