...an Old Man Is Twice A Child.

No Longer Mourn For Me When I Am Dead Than You Shall Hear The Surly Sullen Bell Give Warning To The World That I Am Fled From This Vile World, With Vilest Worms To Dwell.

O, Thou Hast Damnable Iteration; And Art, Indeed, Able To Corrupt A Saint.

Striving To Better, Oft We Mar What’s Well.

Were Beauty Under Twenty Locks Kept Fast, Yet Love Breaks Through And Picks Them All At Last.

Teach Me, Dear Creature, How To Think And Speak; Lay Open To My Earthy-gross Conceit, Smother'd In Errors, Feeble, Shallow, Weak, The Folded Meaning Of Your Words' Deceit.