The lot of man - to suffer and to die.

Hope travels through, nor quits us when we die.

Those oft are stratagems which errors seem Nor is it Homer nods, but we that dream.

The zeal of fools offends at any time.

Light quirks of music, broken and uneven,Make the soul dance upon a jig to Heav'n.

So perish all who do the like again.

There goes a saying, and 'twas shrewdly said, ''Old fish at table, but young flesh in bed.