With A Bloody Flux Of Oaths Vows

It Is The Lot Of Man But Once To Die.

Nor Fire, Nor Rocks, Can Stop Our Furious Minds, Nor Waves, Nor Winds.

Gaze Not On Beauty Too Much, Lest It Blast Thee; Nor Too Long, Lest It Blind Thee; Nor Too Near, Lest It Burn Thee. If Thou Like It, It Deceives Thee; If Thou Love It, It Disturbs Thee; If Thou Hunt After It, It Destroys Thee. If Virtue Accompany It, It Is The Heart's Paradise; If Vice Associate It, It Is The Soul's Purgatory. It Is The Wise Man's Bonfire, And The Fool's Furnace.

See How The World (whose Chaste And Pregnant Womb Of Late Conceiv'd, And Brought Forth Nothing Ill) Is Now Degenerated, And Become A Base Adult'ress, Whose False Births Do Fill The Earth With Monsters, Monsters That Do Roam And Rage About, And Make A Trade To Kill: Now Glutt'ny Paunches, And Avarice A Pawn; Pale Envy Pines, Pride Swells, And Sloth Begins To Yawn.

In The Height Of Thy Prosperity Expect Adversity, But Fear It Not. If It Come Not, Thou Art The More Sweetly Possessed Of The Happiness Thou Hast, And The More Strongly Confirmed. If It Come, Thou Art The More Gently Dispossessed Of The Happiness Thou Hadst, And The More Firmly Prepared.