Strikes Deeper, Grows With More Pernicious Root.

For Death Remembered Should Be Like A Mirror, Who Tells Us Life’s But Breath, To Trust It Error.

But Thou Art Fair, And At Thy Birth, Dear Boy, Nature And Fortune Join'd To Make Thee Great: Of Nature's Gifts Thou Mayst With Lilies Boast, And With The Half-blown Rose; But Fortune, O!

The Deep Of Night Is Crept Upon Our Talk, And Nature Must Obey Necessity.

How Use Doth Breed A Habit In A Man.

Better A Little Chiding Than A Great Deal Of Heartbreak.