Their Lips Were Four Red Roses On

Is Not Birth, Beauty, Good Shape, Discourse, Manhood, Learning, Gentleness, Virtue, Youth, Liberality, And Such Like, The Spice And Salt That Season A Man

Time Is A Very Bankrupt And Owes More Than He's Worth To Season. Nay, He's A Thief Too: Have You Not Heard Men Say, That Time Comes Stealing On By Night And Day?

Oft Have I Heard That Grief Softens The Mind And Makes It Fearful And Degenerate.

When I Have Plucked The Rose, I Cannot Give It Vital Growth Again, It Needs Must Wither. I'll Smell It On The Tree.

For We, Which Now Behold These Present Days, Have Eyes To Wonder, But Lack Tongues To Praise.