He loves his bonds who, when the first are broke, Submits his neck into a second yoke.
Who covets more is evermore a slave.
Who with a little cannot be content, endures an everlasting punishment.
Gather ye rose-buds while ye may, Old Time is still a flying: And this same flower that smiles to day, Tomorrow will be dying.
Love is a circle that doth restless move in the same sweet eternity of love.
Against diseases here the strongest fence is the defensive vertue, Abstinence.