contemporizemos

A vida é curta e não há neste vasto mundo palavras suficientes pra q sequer duas pessoas se entendam mutuamente.

further advice to George V,

who complains that previous advice overlooks that if his son claims the king is mad, Britain's fate will be seriously compromised.

Your love takes root,   you wed your wife,
your seed is sown   to breed new life.
But now your fruit   is ripe to rot,
and you bemoan   what you begot.
Bemoan my foot!   You should delight
his true worth's known   while you can fight!

Though he's a brute,   your son won't win:
he's just a baddy,   zonked in gin.
He's not astute   to cast some doubt
on what his daddy's   sure about
(though that's a moot   point, I decree:
that you are mad is   clear to me.)

To grab his loot   he must make plain,
when lawyers quiz   him, that your brain
is fast en route   to lunch in Surrey.
But that's just fizz,   you need not worry.
And I dispute   your cause to fear
that claim of his.   'Tis hardly clear
what harm his suit   could do to Brits,
whose pastime is   to lose their wits.

advice to George V,

who complains that his son has turned out badly, has become a rake and threatens to claim his father is mad.

You rue as fact   that he's a rake,
a foe to tact   you would forsake.
But would you bet   against your son,
whose fault as yet   is having fun?
Let children go   the way they choose:
they will do so   by right or ruse;
just trust your genes,   you need not gripe:
the kid who weans   will soon be ripe.
And if you doubt   your son's true worth
then there's no clout   in your own birth.