A Very Ancient And Fish-like

Let The Doors Be Shut Upon Him, That He May Play The Fool No Where But In's Own House.

Violent Fires Soon Burn Out Themselves, Small Showers Last Long, But Sudden Storms Are Short; He Tires Betimes That Spurs Too Fast.

Woe, Destruction, Ruin, And Decay; The Worst Is Death And Death Will Have His Day.

Your Lordship, Though Not Clean Past Your Youth, Have Yet Some Smack Of Age In You, Some Relish Of The Saltiness Of Time.

Manhood Is Melted Into Courtesies, Valor Into Compliment, And Men Are Only Turned Into Tongue, And Trim Ones, Too.