For death remembered should be like a mirror, Who tells us life’s but breath, to trust it error.

What showers arise, blown with the windy tempest of my heart

The hand that hath made you fair hath made you good.

Know more than other. Work more than other. Expect less than other

My age is as a lusty winter, frosty but kindly.

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

Travelers must be content.