Narcissa, I’m become thy pupil now—
Early, bright, transient, chaste, as morning dew,
She sparkled, was exhaled, and went to heaven.
Time on this head has snow’d; yet still ’tis borne 602
Aloft; nor thinks but on another’s grave.
Cover’d with shame I speak it, age severe
Old worn-out vice sets down for virtue fair;
With graceless gravity, chastising youth,
That youth chastised surpassing in a fault,
Father of all, forgetfulness of death: