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Like to the income must be our expense; Man's fortune must be had in reverence.

Who forms a godhead out of gold or stone Makes not a god, but he that prays to one.

I could wish you all who love, That ye could your thoughts remove From your mistresses, and be Wisely wanton, like to me, I could wish you dispossessed Of that fiend that mars your rest, And with tapers comes to fright Your weak senses in the night. I could wish ye all who fry Cold as ice, or cool as I; But if flames best like ye, then, Much good do 't ye, gentlemen. I a merry heart will keep, While you wring your hands and weep.

'Tis a known principle in war, The eyes be first that conquered are.