Time's The King Of Men; He's Both

. . . Nothing In His Life Became Him Like The Leaving It; He Died As One That Had Been Studied In His Death To Throw Away The Dearest Thing He Owed, As 'twere A Careless Trifle.

I Say, Without Characters, Fame Lives Long.

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?

For I Have Neither Wit, Nor Words, Nor Worth, Action, Nor Utterance, Nor The Power Of Speech, To Stir Men's Blood: I Only Speak Right On; I Tell You That Which You Yourselves Do Know.

His Heart As Far From Fraud As Heaven From Earth.