As Chaste As Is The Bud Ere

What Early Tongue So Sweet Saluteth Me? Young Son, It Argues A Distemper'd Head So Soon To Bid Good Morrow To Thy Bed: Care Keeps His Watch In Every Old Man's Eye, And Where Care Lodges, Sleep Will Never Lie; But Where Unbruised Youth With Unstuff'd Brain Doth Couch His Limbs, There Golden Sleep Doth Reign.

I See, Sir, You Are Liberal In Offers. You Taught Me First To Beg, And Now Methinks You Teach Me How A Beggar Should Be Answered.

Never Anything Can Be Amiss, When Simpleness And Duty Tender It.

My Long Sickness Of Health And Living Now Begins To Mend, And Nothing Brings Me All Things.

Those, That With Haste Will Make A Mighty Fire, Begin It With Weak Straws.