For In That Sleep Of

The Prize Of All Too Precious You.

Set Honour In One Eye And Death I' The Other, And I Will Look On Both Indifferently.

When Once Our Grace We Have Forgot, Nothing Goes Right.

Defer No Time, Delays Have Dangerous Ends.

Farewell, A Long Farewell To All My Greatness! This Is The State Of Man: Today He Puts Forth The Tender Leaves Of Hope, Tomorrow Blossoms, And Bears His Blushing Honours Thick Upon Him: The Third Day Comes A Frost, A Killing Frost, And - When He Thinks, Good Easy Man, Full Surely His Greatness Is A-ripening - Nips His Root, And Then He Falls, As I Do.