What is a man, if his chief good and market of his time be but to sleep and feed? a beast, no more. Sure he that made us with such large discourse, looking before and after, gave us not that capability and god-like reason to fust in us unused.

And too soon Marred are those so early Made.

Though justice be thy plea consider this, that in the course of justice none of us should see salvation.

What early tongue so sweet saluteth me? Young son, it argues a distemper'd head So soon to bid good morrow to thy bed: Care keeps his watch in every old man's eye, And where care lodges, sleep will never lie; But where unbruised youth with unstuff'd brain Doth couch his limbs, there golden sleep doth reign.

Words to deeds cold breath gives.

Journeys end in lovers meeting.

Out of her favour, where I am in love.