My Crown Is Called Content, A Crown

This Day's Black Fate On More Days Doth Depend; This But Begins The Woe, Others Must End.

Come, Go With Us, Speak Fair; You May Salve So, Not What Is Dangerous Present, But The Los Of What Is Past.

O That A Lady, Of One Man Refused, Should Of Another Therefore Be Abused!

Your Wisdom Is Consum'd In Confidence. Do Not Go Forth To-day.

Have You Not A Moist Eye, A Dry Hand, A Yellow Cheek, A White Beard, A Decreasing Leg, An Increasing Belly? Is Not Your Voice Broken, Your Wind Short, Your Chin Double, Your Wit Single, And Every Part About You Blasted With Antiquity?