Great Grief, Great Glory.

Consider sorrows, how they are aright:
Grief, if't be great, 'tis short; if long, 'tis light.

Sorrows our portion are: ere hence we go,
Crosses we must have; or, hereafter woe.

Sorrows divided amongst many, less
Discruciate a man in deep distress.

Jove may afford us thousands of reliefs,
Since man expos'd is to a world of griefs.

I make no haste to have my numbers read:
Seldom comes glory till a man be dead.

Glory no other thing is, Tully says,
Than a man's frequent fame spoke out with praise.