Folly in youth is sin, in age 'tis madness

The absent danger greater still appears; Less fears he who is near the thing he fears.

Princes in this case Do hate the traitor, though they love the treason.

For 'tis some ease our sorrows to reveal, If they to whom we shall impart our woes, Seem but to feel a part of what we feel, And meet us with a sigh, but at the close.

But years hath done this wrong, To make me write too much, and live too long.

And you shall find the greatest enemy A man can have is his prosperity.

Pity is sworn servant unto love; And thus be sure, wherever it begin To make the way, it lets the master in.