Ill Fortune Seldom Comes Alone.

Bold Knaves Thrive Without One Grain Of Sense, But Good Men Starve For Want Of Impudence.

With Odorous Oil Thy Head And Hair Are Sleek; And Then Thou Kemb'st The Tuzzes On Thy Cheek: Of These, My Barbers Take A Costly Care.

Fame Then Was Cheap, And The First Comer Sped; And They Have Kept It Since By Being Dead.

For Truth Has Such A Face And Such A Mien, As To Be Loved Needs Only To Be Seen.

Old Age Creeps On Us Ere We Think It Nigh.