A Loud Laugh Bespeaks A Vacant Mind!

My Glass Shall Not Persuade Me I Am Old, So Long As Youth And Thou Are Of One Date; But When In Thee Time's Furrows I Behold, Then Look I Death My Days Should Expiate.

What's Gone, And What's Past Help, Should Be Past Grief.

I'll Forbear; And Am Fallen Out With My More Headier Will To Take The Indisposed And Sickly Fit For The Sound Man.

I Will Praise Any Man That Will Praise Me.

Then Will I Raise Aloft The Milk-white Rose. For Whose Sweet Smell The Air Shall Be Perfumed.