When the sea was calm all ships alike showed mastership in floating.
What is a man, if his chief good and market of his time be but to sleep and feed? a beast, no more.
There is nothing either good or bad but thinking makes it so.
The gaudy, blabbing, and remorseful day Is crept into the bosom of the sea.
But to my mind, though I am native here, And to the manner born, it is a custom, More honored in the breach than the observance.
Let life be short, else shame will be too long.