There Are No Tricks In Plain And

Thus Did I Keep My Person Fresh And New, My Presence, Like A Robe Pontifical, Ne'er Seen But Wondered At, And So My State, Seldom But Sumptuous, Showed Like A Feast.

A Very Ancient And Fish-like Smell.

Some Smack Of Age In You, Some Relish Of The Saltness Of Time.

Opinion Crowns With An Imperial Voice.

We Must Not Stint Our Necessary Actions In The Fear To Cope Malicious Censurers, Which Ever, As Rav'nous Fishes, Do A Vessel Follow That Is New-trimmed, But Benefit No Further Than Vainly Longing.