'Tis now the summer of your youth: time has not cropped the roses from your cheek, though sorrow long has washed them.

While mantling on the maiden's cheek Young roses kindled into thought.

What though youth gave love and roses, Age still leaves us friends and wine.

Though an angel should write, still 'tis devils must print.

There's a lot of trouble with our youth. I've watched a couple of generations fail... . It starts at home. There are children who don't have a father, or a father figure. They are primarily raised by women with no male role models.

Ay, rail at gaming - 'tis a rich topic, and affords noble declamation. Go, preach against it in the city - you'll find a congregation in every tavern.