Even In A Hero's Heart Discretion Is

Old Age, A Second Child, By Nature Curst With More And Greater Evils Than The First, Weak, Sickly, Full Of Pains: In Ev'ry Breath Railing At Life, And Yet Afraid Of Death.

And Reputation Bleeds In Ev'ry Word.

It Can't Be Nature, For It Is Not Sense.

Who Shall Dispute What The Reviewers Say? Their Word's Sufficient; And To Ask A Reason, In Such A State As Theirs, Is Downright Treason.

Patience Is Sorrow's Salve.