Far happier are the dead methinks than they who look for death and fear it every day

His frown was full of terror, and his voice Shook the delinquent with such fits of awe As left him not, till penitence had won Lost favor back again, and clos'd the breach.

Beware of desperate steps. The darkest day, Live till to-morrow, will have pass'd away.

To-morrow is our wedding-day, / And we will then repair / Unto the Bell at Edmonton, / All in a chaise and pair.

Absence from whom we love is worse than death, and frustrates hope severer than despair

Of all the wonders that I yet have heard,
It seems to me most strange that men should fear;
Seeing that death, a necessary end,
Will come when it will come.