Who covets more is evermore a slave.
Each must in virtue strive for to excel; That man lives twice that lives the first life well.
Roses at first were white, Till thy co'd not agree, Whether my Sapho's breast, Or they more white sho'd be.
The first act's doubtful, but we say, it is the last commends the play.
Happy is the bride that the sun shines on.
Conquer we shall, but, we must first contend! It's not the fight that crowns us, but the end.