Flattery, the dangerous nurse of vice.

Flattery, the dangerous nurse of vice.

Beauty, sweet love, is like the morning dew, Whose short refresh upon tender green, Cheers for a time, but till the sun doth show And straight is gone, as it had never been.

Striving to tell his woes, words would not come; For light cares speak, when mighty griefs are dumb.

We come to know best what men are, in their worse jeopardizes.

Care-charmer Sleep, son of the sable Night, Brother to Death, in silent darkness born, Relieve my languish and restore the light; With dark forgetting of my care return. And let the day be time enough to mourn The shipwreck of my ill adventured youth: Let waking eyes suffice to wail their scorn Without the torment of the night's untruth.

Love is a sickness full of woes, All remedies refusing; A plant that with most cutting grows, Most barren with best using.