O polished perturbation! golden care! That keep'st the ports of slumber open wide To many a watchful night.

I will be correspondent to command, And do my spiriting gently.

Gold--what can it not do, and undo?

New customs, Though they be never so ridiculous (Nay, let em be unmanly), yet are followed.

Full of wise saws and modern instances.

Things may serve long, but not serve ever.

And flights of angels sing thee to thy rest!