See, the curse of children! In life they keep us frequently in tears, And in the cold grave leave us in pale fears.

See, the curse of children! In life they keep us frequently in tears, And in the cold grave leave us in pale fears.

Gold that buys health can never be ill spent, Nor hours laid out in harmless merriment.

I am Duchess of Malfi still.

Glories, like glow-worms, afar off shine bright, But looked to near, have neither heat nor light.

Physicians are like kings- They brook no contradiction.

In all our quest of greatness, like wanton boys, whose pastime is their care, we follow after bubbles, blown in the air.