Sir Walter Raleigh to His Son

Three things there be that prosper all apace, And flourish while they are asunder far; But on a day, they meet all in a place, And when they meet, they one another mar.

And they be these; the Wood, the Weed, the Wag: The Wood is that that makes the gallow tree; The Weed is that that strings the hangman's bag; The Wag, my pretty knave, betokens thee.

Now mark, dear boy — while these assemble not, Green springs the tree, hemp grows, the wag is wild; But when they meet, it makes the timber rot, It frets the halter, and it chokes the child.