O how wretched is that poor man that hangs on princes favors! There is betwixt that smile we would aspire to, that sweet aspect of princes, and their ruin, more pangs and fears than wars or women have, and when he falls, he falls like Lucifer, never to hope again.

the time of life is short; To spend that shortness basely were too long.

Through tattered clothes great vices do appear; Robes and furred gowns hide all. Plate sin with gold and the strong lance of justice hurtless breaks. Arm it in rags, a pigmy's straw does pierce it.

This is the short and the long of it.

Can we outrun the heavens?

Vile worm, thou wast o'erlook'd even in thy birth.

Receive what cheer you may. The night is long that never finds the day.