If There Is A Good Will, There

Time Doth Transfix The Flourish Set On Youth And Delves The Parallels In Beauty's Brow.

How Sharper Than A Serpent's Tooth It Is To Have A Thankless Child!

Therefore, To Be Possess'd With Double Pomp, To Guard A Title That Was Rich Before, To Gild Refined Gold, To Paint The Lily, To Throw A Perfume On The Violet, To Smooth The Ice, Or Add Another Hue Unto The Rainbow, Or With Taper-light To Seek The Beauteous Eye Of Heaven To Garnish, Is Wasteful And Ridiculous Excess.

Enough No More; Tis Not So Sweet Now As It Was Before.

Tired With All These, For Restful Death I Cry.