A Youth Of Frolic, An Old Age

Wretches Hang That Jurymen May Dine.

Wine Works The Heart Up, Wakes The Wit, There Is No Cure 'gainst Age But It

Of Darkness Visible So Much Be Lent, As Half To Show, Half Veil, The Deep Intent.

No Louder Shrieks To Pitying Heaven Are Cast, When Husbands Or Lap-dogs Breathe Their Last.

These Riches Are Possess'd, But Not Enjoy'd!