Govern well thy appetite, lest Sin surprise thee, and her black attendant Death.
Nor jealousy Was understood, the injur'd lover's hell.
Yet beauty, though injurious, hath strange power, After offence returning, to regain Love once possess'd.
Some say no evil thing that walks by night, In fog or fire, by lake or moorish fen, Blue meagre hag, or stubborn unlaid ghost That breaks his magic chains at curfew time, No goblin, or swart fairy of the mine, Hath hurtful power o'er true virginity.
Hope allows us to bid farewell to fear.
Her silent course advance With inoffensive pace, that spinning sleeps On her soft axle.