Justice Always Whirls In Equal Measure.

For They Are Yet Ear-kissing Arguments.

Against Ill Chances Men Are Ever Merry, But Heaviness Foreruns The Good Event.

The Old Folk, Time's Doting Chronicles.

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

Slanders, Sir, For The Satirical Rogue Says Here That Old Men Have Grey Beards, That Their Faces Are Wrinkled, Their Eyes Purging Think Amber And Plum-tree Gum, And That They Have A Plentiful Lack Of Wit, Together With Most Weak Hams.