Now Let Us Sport Us While We

Though I Carry Always Some Ill-nature About Me, Yet It Is, I Hope, No More Than Is In This World Necessary For A Preservative.

As Lines, So Loves Oblique, May Well Themselves In Every Angle Greet; But Ours, So Truly Parallel, Though Infinite, Can Never Meet.

Now Let Us Sport Us While We May; And Now, Like Amorous Birds Of Prey, Rather At Once Our Time Devour, Than Languish In His Slow-chapped Power.

How Vainly Men Themselves Amaze To Win The Palm, The Oak, Or Bays; And Their Uncessant Labours See Crown'd From Some Single Herb Or Tree. Whose Short And Narrow Verged Shade Does Prudently Their Toils Upbraid; While All Flow'rs And All Trees Do Close To Weave The Garlands Of Repose.

Now Therefore, While The Youthful Hue Sits On Thy Skin Like Morning Dew, And While Thy Willing Soul Transpires At Every Pore With Instant Fires Now Let Us Sport Us While We May, And Now, Like Amorous Birds Of Prey, Rather At Once Our Time Devour Than Languish In His Slow-chapped Power. Let Us Roll Our Strength And All Our Sweetness Up Into One Ball And Tear Our Pleasures With Rough Strife Through The Iron Gates Of Life: Thus, While We Cannot Make Our Sun Stand Still, Yet We Will Make Him Run.