Fortune Confounds The Wise, And When They

I Maintain, Against The Enemies Of The Stage, That Patterns Of Piety, Decently Represented, May Second The Precepts.

Men Are But Children Of A Larger Growth.

Like Pilgrims To Th' Appointed Place We Tend; The World's An Inn, And Death The Journey's End.

What, Start At This! When Sixty Years Have Spread. Their Grey Experience O'er Thy Hoary Head? Is This The All Observing Age Could Gain? Or Hast Thou Known The World So Long In Vain?

And That One Hunting, Which The Devil Design'd For One Fair Female, Lost Him Half The Kind.