Death in itself is nothing but we fear to be we know not what, we know not where.
All human things are subject to decay And when fate summons monarchs must obey.
None but the brave deserve the fair.
Fight on my merry men all I'm a little wounded but I am not slain I will lay me down for to bleed a while Then I'll rise and fight with you again.
None are so busy as the fool and knave.
They conquer who believe they can.
For Art may err but Nature cannot miss.
By education most have been misled So they believe, because they were bred. The priest continues where the nurse began, And thus the child imposes on the man.
Tis Fate that flings the dice,And as she flingsOf kings makes peasants,And of peasants kings.
Go miser go, for money sell your soul. Trade wares for wares and trudge from pole to pole, So others may say when you are dead and gone. See what a vast estate he left his son.
War he sung is toil and trouble Honour but an empty bubble.
But far more numerous was the herd of stfch Who think too little and who talk too much.
Whence but from heaven, could men unskilled in arts,In several ages born, in several parts,Weave such agreeing truths? Or how, or why, Should all conspire to cheat us with a lie?
Damned Neuters in their Middle way of Steering Are neither Fish nor Flesh nor good Red Herring.
For truth has such a face and such a mien As to be lov'd needs only to be seen.
His tribe were God Almighty's gentlemen.
Happy the man and happy he alone He who can call today his own: He who secure within can say Tomorrow do thy worst for I have liv'd today.