Tis not too late to seek a newer world.

And sometimes through the mirror blue The knights come riding two and two.

But while I breathe Heaven's air and Heaven looks down on me, And smiles at my best meanings, I remain Mistress of mine own self and mine own soul.

Tho' much is taken, much abides.

By blood a king, in heart a clown.

Old age hath yet his honour and his toil.

Old men must die, or the world would grow mouldy, would only breed the past again.