Hereafter, in a better world than this, I shall desire more love and knowledge of you

If after every tempest come such calms, May the winds blow till they have waken'd death!

Fear no more the heat o' th' sun Nor the furious winters' rages; Thou thy worldly task hast done, Home art gone, and ta'en thy wages. Golden lads and girls all must, As chimney-sweepers, come to dust.

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

And therefore is love said to be a child, Because in choice he is so oft beguil'd

Sir, he's a good dog, and a fair dog.

All things are ready, if our mind be so.