Thomas Flatman
Advice To An Old Man of Sixty Three About To Marry a Girle of Sixteen
Now fie upon him! what is Man, Whose life at best is but a span? When to an inch it dwindles down, Ice in his bones, snow on his Crown, That he within his
The Sad Day
O THE sad day! When friends shall shake their heads, and say Of miserable me ‘Hark, how he groans! Look, how he pants for breath! See how he struggles with the pangs of death!’
The Batchelors Song
Like a Dog with a bottle, fast ti’d to his tail, Like Vermin in a trap, or a Thief in a Jail, Or like a Tory in a Bog, Or an Ape with a