Being Of No Power To Make His

Tis Our Fast Intent To Shake All Cares And Business From Our Age, Conferring Them On Younger Strengths, While We Unburdened Crawl Toward Death.

When To The Sessions Of Sweet Silent Thought I Summon Up Remembrance Of Things Past, I Sigh The Lack Of Many A Thing I Sought.

Direct Not Him Whose Way Himself Will Choose; 'tis Breath Not Lack'st, And That Breath Wilt Thou Lose.

What Infinite Heart's-ease Must Kings Neglect That Private Men Enjoy! And What Have Kings That Privates Have Not Too, Save Ceremony, Save General Ceremony?

Patch Up Thine Old Body For Heaven.