False Face Must Hide What The False

A Good Old Man, Sir. He Will Be Talking. As They Say, When The Age Is In, The Wit Is Out.

Temptation Is The Fire That Brings Up The Scum Of The Heart.

The Setting Sun, And The Music At The Close, As The Last Taste Of Sweets, Is Sweetest Last, Writ In Rememberance More Than Long Things Past.

Tis Our Fast Intent To Shake All Cares And Business From Our Age, Conferring Them On Younger Strengths, While We Unburdened Crawl Toward Death.

Away! Thou'rt Poison To My Blood.