We Waste Our Lights In Vain, Like

What Is Done Cannot Be Now Amended.

The Small Amount Of Foolery Wise Men Have Makes A Great Show.

Ships Are But Boards, Sailors But Men.

Those That Much Covet Are With Gain So Fond, For What They Have Not, That Which They Possess They Scatter And Unloose It From Their Bond, And So, By Hoping More, They Have But Less; Or, Gaining More, The Profit Of Excess Is But To Surfeit, And Such Griefs Sustain, That They Prove Bankrupt In This Poor-rich Gain.

Say, Thou Art Mine; And Ever, My Love, As It Begins, Shall So Persevere