Things Are Evermore Sincere; /

Necessity Makes Dastards Valiant Men.

Seldom Comes Glory Till A Man Be Dead.

To The Virgins, To Make Much Of Time Gather Ye Rose-buds While Ye May, Old Time Is Still A-flying; And This Same Flower That Smiles Today, Tomorrow Will Be Dying. The Glorious Lamp Of Heaven, The Sun, The Higher He’s A-getting, The Sooner Will His Race Be Run, And Nearer He Is To Setting. That Age Is Best Which Is The First, When Youth And Blood Are Warmer; But Being Spent, The Worse, And Worst Times Still Succeed The Former. Then Be Not Coy, But Use Your Time, And While You May, Go Marry; For Having Lost But Once Your Prime, You May For Ever Tarry.

It Takes Great Wit And Interest And Energy To Be Happy. The Pursuit Of Happiness Is A Great Activity. One Must Be Open And Alive. It Is The Greatest Feat Man Has To Accomplish.

No, Not Jove Himselfe, At One Time, Can Be Wise And Love.