Dead, we become the lumber of the world.

And ever since the Conquest have been fools.

Natural freedoms are but just:
There's something generous in mere lust.

For all men would be cowards if they durst

There's not a thing on earth that I can name,
So foolish, and so false, as common fame.

Ancient person, for whom I
All the flattering youth defy,
Long be it ere thou grow old,
Aching, shaking, crazy, cold;
But still continue as thou art,
Ancient person of my heart.