Outdid the meat, outdid the frolic wine.
Seldom comes Glory till a man be dead.
Some asked me where the rubies grew, And nothing I did say; But with my finger pointed to The lips of Julia.
Thus times do shift, each thing his turn does hold; New things succeed, as former things grow old.
Things are evermore sincere; / Candor here, and lustre there / Delighting.
Who with a little cannot be content, endures an everlasting punishment.