Age, I Do Abhor Thee, Youth, I

A Wretched Soul, Bruised With Adversity, We Bid Be Quiet When We Hear It Cry; But Were We Burdened With Light Weight Of Pain, As Much Or More We Should Ourselves Complain.

Guiltiness Will Speak, Though Tongues Were Out Of Use

A Nun Of Winter's Sisterhood Kisses Not More Religiously; The Very Ice Of Chastity Is In Them.

When The Sun Shines Let Foolish Gnats Make Sport, But Creep In Crannies When He Hides His Beams.

Thou Shouldst Not Have Been Old Till Thou Hadst Been Wise.