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Ne'er can the wise grow old, in whom there dwells

A soul sustained with light of Heaven's own day;

Great gain to men is forethought such as theirs.

He who in midst of woes desireth life,

Is either coward or insensible.

A. Now he is dead, I yearn to die with him.

B. Why such hot haste? Thou needs must meet thy fate.

Truth evermore surpasseth words in might.

A woman's oaths I write upon the waves.

To drink against one's will

Is not less evil than unwilling thirst.

If thou should'st bring all wisdom of the wise

To one who thirsts, thou could'st not please him more

Than giving him to drink.

Most basely wilt thou die by doom of Heaven,

Who, being as thou art, dost still drain off

Thy pottle-deep potations.

This wanton insolence

Is never brought to self-control in youth,

But still among the young bursts out, and then

Tames down and withers.

I know that God is ever such as this,

Darkly disclosing counsels to the wise;