Monday, February 23, 2009
and if we play our cards right ... i may come back with the franchise for the purveyance of papal indulgences in battersea and nine elms
Saturday, February 21, 2009
Wednesday, February 18, 2009
Tuesday, February 17, 2009
Here rests what was Mortal of Sr. ROBERT CLAYTON Kt. in the year MDCLXXX Lord Mayor and at his death Alderman and Father of the CITY of LONDON and near XXX years one of its Representatives in Parliament.By the Justest Methods & Skill in Business He acquir'd an Ample Fortune, which He appli'd to the Noblest purposes, & more than once ventur'd it all for His Country. He fix't the Seat of his Family at Marden, where he hath left a Remarkable instance of the politeness of his Genius, and how far Nature may be improved by Art. His Relations, his Friends, the Hospital of St Thomas in Southwark (of which he was the President) Christ Church Hospital & the Workhouse of London, were large shares of his bounty. He liv'd in the Communion of the Church of England & in perfect Charity with all Good men however divided amoung themselves in opinion The Welfare of his Country was the only Aim of his Publick actions and in all the various Efforts that were made in his time for preserving it's Constitution, He bore a great share & acted therein with a Constancy of Mind which no prospect of danger could ever shake.It's but Just the Memory of so Good and so Great a Man should be transmited to after age, since in all the private and Publick transactions of his life He hath left so Bright a pattern to imitate but hardly to be outdone.He was born at Bulwick in Northampton, Shire the XXIX day of September Ano: Dom: MDCXXIX and died at Marden the XVI day of July MDCCVII.Gulielmus Clayton Nepos et Haeres>D-D< href="http://emotionalblackmailers.blogspot.com/2006/09/sir-thomas-clayton-behind-saint-thomas.html">http://emotionalblackmailers.blogspot.com/2006/09/sir-thomas-clayton-behind-saint-thomas.html
Monday, February 16, 2009
Sunday, February 15, 2009
Thursday, February 12, 2009
Wednesday, February 11, 2009
Saturday, February 07, 2009
Thursday, February 05, 2009
That time of year thou may’st in me behold
When yellow leaves, or none, or few, do hang
Upon those boughs which shake against the cold,
Bare ruined choirs, where late the sweet birds sang.
In me thou see'st the twilight of such day
As after sunset fadeth in the west;
Which by and by black night doth take away,
Death's second self, that seals up all in rest.
In me thou see'st the glowing of such fire,
That on the ashes of his youth doth lie,
As the death-bed, whereon it must expire,
Consumed with that which it was nourish'd by.
This thou perceiv'st, which makes thy love more strong,
To love that well, which thou must leave ere long.