Whether we fall by ambition, blood, or lust, like diamonds we are cut with our own dust.

Were there no heaven nor hell I should be honest.

Lust carries her sharp whip At her own girdle.

Oh, yes, thy sins Do run before thee to fetch fire from hell, To light thee thither.

Glories, like glow-worms, afar off shine bright, But looked to near, have neither heat nor light.

In all our quest of greatness, like wanton boys, whose pastime is their care, we follow after bubbles, blown in the air.

Physicians are like kings- They brook no contradiction.