A Fool Thinks Himself To Be Wise,

For We, Which Now Behold These Present Days, Have Eyes To Wonder, But Lack Tongues To Praise.

What's To Come Is Still Unsure: In Delay There Lies No Plenty; Then Come Kiss Me, Sweet And Twenty, Youth's A Stuff Will Not Endure.

O Father Abram, What These Christians Are, Whose Own Hard Dealing Teaches Them Suspect The Thoughts Of Others!

Lord, What Fools These Mortals Be!

Death, As The Psalmist Saith, Is Certain To All, All Shall Die.