How Low Am I, Thou Painted Maypole?

My Long Sickness Of Health And Living Now Begins To Mend, And Nothing Brings Me All Things.

Great Men Should Drink With Harness On Their Throats.

Trust Not Your Daughter's Minds By What You See Them Act.

Nor Age So Eat Up My Invention.

I'll Make Death Love Me; For I Will Contend Even With His Pestilent Scythe.