Let your house

Know, Nature, like the cuckoo, laughs at law, Placing her eggs in whatso nest she will.

Friendship, 'tis said, is love without his wings, And friendship, sir, is sweet enough for me.

And Clara dies that Claribel may dance.

Friendship craves The commerce of the mind, not the exchange Of emulous feasts that foster sycophants.

Then, without toil, by vale and mountain side, Men found their few and simple wants supplied; Plenty, like dew, dropped subtle from the air, And Earth's fair gifts rose prodigal as prayer. Love, with no charms except its own to lure, Was …

Death is the looking-glass of life wherein Each man may scan the aspect of his deeds.