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Cowley, Abraham, 1618-1667

"Cowley's Essays"



Jam cras hesterum consumpsimus, ecce aliud cras egerit hos annos.
Our yesterday's to-morrow now is gone,
And still a new to-morrow does come on;
We by to-morrows draw up all our store,
Till the exhausted well can yield no more.

And now, I think, I am even with you, for your otium cum dignitate
and festina lente, and three or four other more of your new Latin
sentences: if I should draw upon you all my forces out of Seneca
and Plutarch upon this subject, I should overwhelm you, but I leave
those as triarii for your next charges. I shall only give you now a
light skirmish out of an epigrammatist, your special good friend,
and so, vale.

MART. LIB. 5, EP. 59.

To-morrow you will live, you always cry;
In what far country does this morrow lie,
That 'tis so mighty long ere it arrive?
Beyond the Indies does this morrow live?
'Tis so far-fetched, this morrow, that I fear
'Twill be both very old and very dear.
To-morrow I will live, the fool does say;
To-day itself's too late, the wise lived yesterday.

MART. LIB. 2, EP. 90.

Wonder not, sir (you who instruct the town
In the true wisdom of the sacred gown),
That I make haste to live, and cannot hold
Patiently out, till I grow rich and old.


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