Fair Youth, I Would I Could Make

I Do Know Of These That Therefore Only Are Reputed Wise For Saying Nothing.

The Best Is Yet To Come.

That Is The Way To Lay The City Flat, To Bring The Roof To The Foundation, And Bury All, Which Yet Distinctly Ranges, In Heaps And Piles Of Ruin.

No Evil Lost Is Wailed When It Is Gone.

For Youth No Less Becomes The Light And Careless Livery That It Wears, Than Settled Age His Sables, And His Weeds Importing Health And Graveness.