And as pale sickness does invade, Your frailer part, the breaches made, In that fair lodging still more clear, Make the bright guest, your soul, appear.

Give us enough but with a sparing hand.

And as pale sickness does invade, Your frailer part, the breaches made, In that fair lodging still more clear, Make the bright guest, your soul, appear.

Vexed sailors cursed the rain, for which poor shepherds prayed in vain.

Poets lose half the praise they should have got, Could it be known what they discreetly blot.

Music so softens and disarms the mind That not an arrow does resistance find.

Stronger by weakness, wiser men become.