Farewell, thou child of my right hand, and joy! My sin was too much hope of thee, loved boy. Seven years thou wert lent to me, and I thee pay, Exacted by thy fate, on the just day. O, could I lose all father now. For why Will man lament the state he should envy? To have soon 'scaped world's and flesh's rage, And, if no other misery, yet age! Rest in soft peace, and, asked, say here doth lie Ben Jonson his best piece of poetry: For whose sake, henceforth, all his vows be such, As what he loves may never like too much.

He that fears death, or mourns it, in the just, Shows of the resurrection little trust.

Thy praise or dispraise is to me alike; One doth not stroke me, nor the other strike.

There's reason good, that you good laws should make: Men's manners ne'er were viler, for your sake.

For them no more the blazing hearth shall burn, Or busy housewife ply her evening care: No children run to lisp their sire's return, Or climb his knees the env…

I said, 'I want to be in there when he dies'... so Burkeley forced his way into the operating room and said, 'It's her prerogative, it's her prerogative...' an…

Mr. President, before we begin consideration of this spending bill, I want to take a moment to say how distraught and terribly shaken I am over the news of my …