So Wise So Young, They Say, Do

Time Hath Not Yet So Dried This Blood Of Mine, Nor Age So Eat Up My Invention, Nor Fortune Made Such Havoc Of My Means, Nor My Bad Life Reft Me So Much Of Friends, But They Shall Find Awaked In Such A Kind Both Strength Of Limb And Policy Of Mind, Ability In Means, And Choice Of Friends, To Quit Me Of Them Throughly.

They Whose Guilt Within Their Bosom Lies, Imagine Every Eye Beholds Their Blame.

Though This Be Madness, Yet There Is Method In't.

Tis But A Base, Ignoble Mind That Mounts No Higher Than A Bird Can Soar.

People’s Good Deeds We Write In Water. The Evil Deeds Are Etched In Brass.