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That prince takes soon enough the victor's room Who first provides not to be overcome.

The gods to kings the judgment give to sway: The subjects only glory to obey.

He that may sin, sins least: leave to transgress Enfeebles much the seeds of wickedness.

That morn which saw me made a bride, The evening witness'd that I died. Those holy lights, wherewith they guide Unto the bed the bashful bride, Serv'd but as tapers for to burn And light my relics to their urn. This epitaph, which here you see, Supplied the epithalamy.

Ye have been fresh and green, Ye have been fill'd with flowers, And ye the walks have been Where maids have spent their hours.