Bid Me Run, And I

They Told Me I Was Everything. 'tis A Lie, I Am Not Ague-proof.

The Bird That Hath Been Limed In A Bush, With Trembling Wings Misdoubteth Every Bush.

Let's Take The Instant By The Forward Top; For We Are Old, And On Our Quick'st Decrees The Inaudible And Noiseless Foot Of Time Steals Ere We Can Effect Them.

To Beguile The Time, Look Like The Time.

Short Time Seems Long In Sorrow's Sharp Sustaining.