And painefull pleasure turnes to pleasing paine.
Gold all is not that doth golden seem.
For evil deeds may better than bad words be borne.
The poets scrolls will outlive the monuments of stone. Genius survives; all else is claimed by death.
This iron world bungs down the stoutest hearts to lowest state; for misery doth bravest minds abate.
All love is sweet Given or returned And its familiar voice wearies not ever.