Though now this grained face of mine be hid
In sap-consuming winter's drizzled snow,
And all the conduits of my blood froze up,
Yet hath my night of life some memory.
SHAKSPEARE.

Nature, as it grows again tow'rds earth,
Is fashion'd for the journey, dull and heavy.
SHAKSPEARE.

'Tis our first intent

To shake all cares and business from our age, While we unburthen'd crawl tow'rd death. SHAKSPEARE.

What should we speak of

When we are old as you? When we shall hear The rain and wind beat dark December.

SHAKSPEARE.

Youth no less becomes

The light and careless livery that it wears, Than settled age his sables and his weeds, Importing health and graveness.

SHAKSPEARE.

How ill white hairs become a fool and jester! I have long dream'd of such a kind of man, So surfeit-swell'd, so old, and so profane. SHAKSPEARE.

Would some part of my young years
Might but redeem the passage of your age!
SHAKSPEARE.

Age cannot wither her, nor custom stale Her infinite variety.

SHAKSPEARE.

Eighty odd years of sorrow have I seen,
And each hour's joy wreck'd with a week of

teen.

SHAKSPEARE.

At your age

The heyday in the blood is tame, it's humble, And waits upon the judgment.

SHAKSPEARE.

Let's take the instant by the forward top: For we are old, and on our quick'st decrees Th' inaudible and noiseless foot of time Steals, ere we can effect them.

SHAKSPEARE.

An old man, broken with the storms of state, Is come to lay his weary bones among ye: Give him a little earth for charity.

SHAKSPEARE.

That ends this strange eventful history,

Is second childishness and mere oblivion;
Sans teeth, sans eyes, sans taste, sans everything.
SHAKSPEARE.

Let not old age disgrace my high desire,

O heavenly soul, in human shape contain'd! Old wood inflamed doth yield the bravest fire, When younger doth in smoke his virtue spend.

SIR P. SIDNEY.
From pert to stupid sinks supinely down,
In youth a coxcomb, and in age a clown.
SPECTATOR.

Dotard, said he, let be thy deep advise,
Seems that through many years thy wits thee

fail,

And that weak eld hath left thee nothing wise,

Else never should thy judgment be so frail.

SPENSER: Faerie Queene.

Some steep their seeds, and some in cauldrons boil

O'er gentle fires; the exuberant juice to drain, And swell the flatt'ring husks with fruitful grain. DRYDEN,

Mark well the flow'ring almonds in the wood:
If od❜rous blooms the bearing branches load,
The glebe will answer to the sylvan reign:
Great heats will follow, and large crops of grain.
DRYDEN.

The low'ring spring, with lavish rain,
Beats down the slender stem and bearded grain.
DRYDEN.

Oft the drudging ass is driven with toil;
Returning late and loaden home with gain
Of barter'd pitch, and handmills for the grain.
DRYDEN.

In the sun your golden grain display, And thrash it out and winnow it by day.

DRYDEN.

We may know

And when to reap the grain and when to sow, Or when to fell the furzes.

DRYDEN: Virgil.

You who supply the ground with seeds of grain, And you who swell those seeds with kindly rain. DRYDEN.

When continued rain The lab'ring husband in his house restrain, Let him forecast his work with timely care, Which else is huddled when the skies are fair. DRYDEN.

And oft whole sheets descend of sluicy rain, Suck'd by the spungy clouds from off the main: The lofty skies at once come pouring down, The promised crop and golden labours drown. DRYDEN.

She took the coleworts which her husband got From his own ground (a small well-water'd spot);

She stripp'd the stalks of all their leaves; the best She cull'd, and then with handy care she dress'd. DRYDEN.

But when the western winds with vital pow'r Call forth the tender grass and budding flow'r, Men, at the last, produce in open air

Both flocks, and send them to their summer's

fare.

DRYDEN.