Our ruins Will serve to build their palaces or tombs.
They will possess the world that we think ours, And fashion it far otherwise.
MICHAEL ANGELO.
I hear Your son Orazio and your nephew Marco Mentioned with honor.
TITIAN.
Ay, brave lads, brave lads.
But time will show.

There is a youth in Venice, One Paul Cagliari, called the Veronese, Still a mere stripling, but of such rare promise That we must guard our laurels, or may lose them.
MICHAEL ANGELO.
These are good tidings; for I sometimes fear That, when we die, with us all art will die.
'T is but a fancy.

Nature will provide Others to take our places.

I rejoice To see the young spring forward in the race, Eager as we were, and as full of hope And the sublime audacity of youth.
TITIAN.
Men die and are forgotten.

The great world Goes on the same.