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Be not proud, but now incline Your soft ear to discipline. You have changes in your life— Sometimes peace and sometimes strife; You have ebbs of face and flows, As your health or comes or goes; You have hopes, and doubts, and fears Numberless, as are your hairs. You have pulses that do beat High, and passions less of heat. You are young, but must be old, And, to these, ye must be told Time ere long will come and plough Loathed furrows in your brow: And the dimness of your eye Will no other thing imply But you must die As well as I.

Art quickens nature; care will make a face; Neglected beauty perisheth apace.

Mop-eyed I am, as some have said, Because I've lived so long a maid: But grant that I should wedded be,