WhenTime shall turn those amber locks to grey, My verse again shall gild and make them gay.

When faith is kneeling by his bed of death, And innocence is closing up his eyes, Now if thou would'st, when all have given him over, From death to life, thou might'st him yet recover

All transitory titles I detest; a virtuous life I mean to boast alone. Our birth's our sires'; our virtues be our own.

Since there's no help, come let us kiss and part.

Here when the labouring fish does at the foot arrive, And finds that by his strength but vainly he doth strive; His tail takes in his teeth, and bending like a bow, That's to the compass drawn, aloft himself doth throw: Then springing at his height, as doth a little wand, That, bended end to end, and flerted from the hand, Far off itself doth cast. so does the salmon vaut. And if at first he fail, his second sommersault He instantly assays and from his nimble ring, Still yarking never leaves, Until himself he fling Above the streamful top of the surrounded heap.

With much we surfeit; plenty makes us poor.

The Falcon and the Dove sit there together, And th 'one of them doth prune the others feather.