How quickly nature falls into revolt When gold becomes her object! For this the foolish over-careful fathers Have broke their sleep with thoughts, their brains with care, Their bones with industry.
Our thoughts are ours, their ends none of our own
Therefore another prologue must tell he is not a lion
An honest tale speeds best being plainly told.
Who wooed in haste, and means to wed at leisure.
Love is the greatest of dreams, yet the worst of nightmares.