Faith, there hath been many great men that have flattered the people who ne'er loved them.

And therefore is love said to be a child, Because in choice he is so oft beguil'd

But whate'er you are That in this desert inaccessible, Under the shade of melancholy boughs, Lose and neglect the creeping hours of time; If you have ever looked on better days, If ever been where bells knoll'd to church, If ever sat at any good man's feast, If ever from your eyelids wiped a tear, And know what 'tis to pity and be pitied, Let gentleness my strong enforcement be. . . .

Oh, I am fortune's fool!

To beguile the time, look like the time. Bear welcome in your eye, your hand, your tongue.

If there be devils, would I were a devil, To live and burn in everlasting fire, So I might have your company in hell, But to torment you with my bitter tongue!

Foul cankering rust the hidden treasure frets, but gold that's put to use more gold begets.