He Is Not Well Bred,

Trouble Knocked At The Door, But, Hearing Laughter, Hurried Away

God Bless The King, And Grant Him Long To Reign.

They Who Have Nothing To Trouble Them, Will Be Troubled At Nothing.

It Is Hard For An Empty Bag To Stand Upright.

Death Is A Fisherman, The World We See His Fish-pond Is, And We The Fishes Be; His Net Some General Sickness; Howe'er He Is Not So Kind As Other Fishers Be; For If They Take One Of The Smaller Fry, They Throw Him In Again, He Shall Not Die: But Death Is Sure To Kill All He Can Get, And All Is Fish With Him That Comes To Net.