Thou art true and honest as a dog.
Deeds are males, words females are.
For what made that in glory shine so long But poets' Pens, pluckt from Archangels' wings?
Wit,--the pupil of the soul's clear eye.
What more than madness reigns, when one short sitting many hundreds drains.
Hence it is that old men do plant young trees, the fruit whereof another age shall take.