Rising glory occasions the greatest envy, as kindling fire the greatest smoke.
Together linkt with adamantine chains.
All love is sweet Given or returned And its familiar voice wearies not ever.
And painefull pleasure turnes to pleasing paine.
Gold all is not that doth golden seem.
He oft finds med'cine, who his griefe imparts; But double griefs afflict concealing harts, As raging flames who striveth to supresse.