Hide Not Thy Poison With Such Sugar'd

Affliction Is Enamoured Of Thy Parts, And Thou Art Wedded To Calamity.

So We'll Live, And Pray, And Sing, And Tell Old Tales, And Laugh At Gilded Butterflies.

Let Fame, That All Hunt After In Their Lives, Live Regist'red Upon Our Brazen Tombs And Then Grace Us In The Disgrace Of Death; When, Spite Of Cormorant Devouring Time, Th' Endeavor Of This Present Breath May Buy That Honor Which Shall Bate His Scythe's Keen Edge And Make Us Heirs Of All Eternity.

Some Report A Sea-maid Spawn'd Him; Some That He Was Begot Between Two Stock-fishes. But It Is Certain That When He Makes Water His Urine Is Congealed Ice.

The Empty Vessel Makes The Loudest Sound.