My Age I Will Not Once Lament,

Fire Hath Its Force Abated By Water, Not By Wind; And Anger Must Be Allayed By Cold Words, And Not By Blustering Threats.

O Time The Fatal Wrack Of Mortal Things, That Draws Oblivion's Curtains Over Kings; Their Sumptuous Monuments, Men Know Them Not, Their Names Without A Record Are Forgot, Their Parts, Their Ports, Their Pomps All Laid In Th' Dust Nor Wit Nor Gold, Nor Buildings Scape Time's Rust; But He Whose Name Is Graved In The White Stone Shall Last And Shine When All Of These Are Gone.

If Ever Wife Was Happy In A Man, Compare With Me, Ye Women If You Can.

My Age I Will Not Once Lament, / But Sing, My Time So Near Is Spent.

Iron Till It Be Thoroughly Heated Is Incapable To Be Wrought; So God Sees Good To Cast Some Men Into The Furnace Of Affliction, And Then Beats Them On His Anvil Into What Frame He Desires.