A man loves the meat in his youth that he cannot endure in his age.

When I have plucked the rose, I cannot give it vital growth again, It needs must wither. I'll smell it on the tree.

In brief, sir, study what you most affect.

What's gone, and what's past help, Should be past grief.

Therefore, to be possess'd with double pomp, To guard a title that was rich before, To gild refined gold, to paint the lily, To throw a perfume on the violet, To smooth the ice, or add another hue Unto the rainbow, or with taper-light To seek the beauteous eye of heaven to garnish, Is wasteful and ridiculous excess.

Golden lads and girls all must as chimney sweepers come to dust.

O, I do not like that paying back, 'tis a double labor.