My faultless breast the furnace is, the fuel wounding thorns

Time wears all his locks before, Take thy hold upon his forehead; When he flies he turns no more, And behind his scalp is naked. Works adjourn'd have many stays, Long demurs breed new delays.

In Aman's pomp poor Mardocheus wept, Yet God did turn his fate upon his foe; The Lazar pined while Dives' feast was kept, Yet he to heaven, to hell did Dives go. We trample grass and prize the flowers of May, Yet grass is green when …

Shun delays, they breed remorse; Take thy time while time is lent thee; Creeping snails have weakest force, Fly their fault lest thou repent thee. Good is best when soonest wrought, Linger’d labours come to nought.

Before my face the picture hangs, That daily should put me in mind Of those cold names and bitter pangs, That shortly I am like to find: But yet, alas! full little I Do think hereon that I must die.

Man's mind a mirror is of heavenly sights, A brief wherein all marvels summèd lie, Of fairest forms and sweetest shapes the store, Most graceful all, yet thought may grace them more.

Plough not the seas, sow not the sands, Leave off your idle pain; Seek other mistress for your minds, Love's service is in vain.