Nothing 'gainst Times Scythe Can Make Defence.

For The Poor Wren (the Most Diminutive Of Birds) Will Fight, Her Young Ones In Her Nest, Against The Owl.

Now The Melancholy God Protect Thee, And The Tailor Make Thy Garments Of Changeable Taffeta, For Thy Mind Is Opal.

Art Thou Not, Fatal Vision, Sensible To Feelings As To Sight?

Gnarling Sorrow Hath Less Power To Bite The Man That Mocks At It And Sets It Light.

Hanging And Wiving Goes By Destiny.