God grant us patience!
O love, be moderate, allay thy ecstasy, In measure rain thy joy, scant this excess!
It is not vain glory for a man and his glass to confer in his own chamber.
But I will wear my heart upon my sleeve For daws to peck at: I am not what I am.
Gold--what can it not do, and undo?
That which hath made them drunk hath made me bold; What hath quenched them hath given me fire.