“The More I Rest The More I Go In VAIN”

“I hate ingratitude more in a manthan lying, vainness, babbling, drunkenness,or any taint of vice whose strong corruptioninhabits our frail blood".”

“All causes shall give way: I am in bloodStepp’d in so far that, should I wade no more,Returning were as tedious as go o’er.”

“My love as deep; the more I give to thee,The more I have, both are infinite.”

“Thy best of rest is sleep,And that thou oft provok'st; yet grossly fear'stThy death, which is no more.”

“True, I talk of dreams,Which are the children of an idle brain,Begot of nothing but vain fantasy,Which is as thin of substance as the air,And more inconstant than the wind, who woos Even now the frozen bosom of the north,And, being anger'd, puffs away from thence,Turning his side to the dew-dropping south.”

“O, but they say, the tongues of dying men enforce attention, like deep harmony: where words are scarce, they are seldom spent in vain: for they breathe truth, that breathe their words in pain. he, that no more must say, is listened more than they whom youth and ease have taught to gloze; more are men's ends marked, than their lives before: the setting sun, and music at the close, as the last taste of sweets, is sweetest last; writ in rememberance more than things long past”