The Weakest Goes To The Wall.

Violent Fires Soon Burn Out Themselves, Small Showers Last Long, But Sudden Storms Are Short; He Tires Betimes That Spurs Too Fast.

He Is Not Worthy Of The Honey-comb, That Shuns The Hives Because The Bees Have Stings.

Love Reasons Without Reason.

Make The Upcoming Hour Overflow With Joy, And Let Pleasure Drown The Brim.

Now Old Desire Doth In His Deathbed Lie, And Young Affection Gapes To Be His Heir; That Fair For Which Love Groan'd For And Would Die, With Tender Juliet Match'd, Is Now Not Fair.