Prosperity's the very bond of love, Whose fresh complexion and whose heart together Affliction alters.
There's no art to find the mind's construction in the face.
Most dangerous is that temptation that doth goad us on to sin in loving virtue.
Thou art a boil, a plague sore, an embossed carbuncle in my corrupted blood.
The sun with one eye vieweth all the world.
Then others for breath of words respect, Me for my dumb thoughts, speaking in effect.