Simon. ... ‘Your tale, my friend,
Is made from nothing, and of nothings spun —
Foam on the ocean, hoar-frost on the grass,
The gossamer threads that sparkle in the sun
Patterned with morning dew — things that are born
And die, are come and gone, blossom and fade
Ere day mature has drawn one sober breath.’

Philip. ’Tis so; and so is life; and so is youth;
Foam, frost, and dew; what would you? Maidens call
That filmy gossamer the Virgin’s threads,
And virgins’ lives are woven of threads like those.’
The Two Poor Maidens.