As You Are Old And Reverend, You

Assume A Virtue If You Have It Not.

Thus We Play The Fool With The Time And The Spirits Of The Wise Sit In The Clouds And Mock Us.

The Web Of Our Life Is Of A Mingled Yarn, Good And Ill Together.

Make Use Of Time, Let Not Advantage Slip.

Come, Seeling Night, Scarf Up The Tender Eye Of Pitiful Day, And With Thy Bloody And Invisible Hand Cancel And Tear To Pieces That Great Bond Which Keeps Me Pale. Light Thickens, And The Crow Makes Wing To Th' Rooky Wood. Good Things Of Day Begin To Droop And Drowse, While Night's Black Agents To Their Prey Do Rouse.