O polished perturbation! golden care! That keep'st the ports of slumber open wide To many a watchful night.
Men have died from time to time, and worms have eaten them, but not for love.
Who seeks, and will not take, when once 'tis offer'd, Shall never find it more.
You have too much respect upon the world; They lose it that do buy it with much care
A little water clears us of this deed.
Take all the swift advantage of the hours.