O Love, Be Moderate, Allay Thy Ecstasy,

The Painful Warrior Famous For Fight, After A Thousand Victories, Once Foil'd, Is From The Books Of Honor Razed Quite, And All The Rest Forgot For Which He Toil'd

Coal-black Is Better Than Another Hue In That It Scorns To Bear Another Hue; For All The Water In The Ocean Can Never Turn The Swan's Black Legs To White, Although She Lave Them Hourly In The Flood.

Study Is Like The Heaven's Glorious Sun, That Will Not Be Deep-searched With Saucy Looks: Small Have Continual Plodders Ever Won, Save Base Authority From Others' Books.

He Is Winding The Watch Of His Wit; By And By It Will Strike.

Every Inordinate Cup Is Unbless'd, And The Ingredient Is A Devil.