Rude Am I In My

We Have Some Salt Of Our Youth In Us.

You Are Not Wood, You Are Not Stones, But Men; And Being Men, Hearing The Will Of Caesar, It Will Inflame You, It Will Make You Mad.

My Glass Shall Not Persuade Me I Am Old, So Long As Youth And Thou Are Of One Date; But When In Thee Time's Furrows I Behold, Then Look I Death My Days Should Expiate.

Most Dangerous Is That Temptation That Doth Goad Us On To Sin In Loving Virtue.

Tongues I'll Hang On Every Tree That Shall Civil Sayings Show. . . .