Like an ambassador that beds a queen

He that to ancient wreaths can bring no more From his own worth, dies bankrupt on the score.

The marigold, whose courtier's face Echoes the sun, and doth unlace Her at his rise, at his full stop Packs and shuts up her gaudy shop.

Never Mark Antony Dallied more wantonly With the fair Egyptian Queen.

Had Cain been Scot, God would have changed his doom; Not made him wander, but continued him home.

Oft cruel Wars contending Hermits wage, And long for the disputed Shell engage. The strongest will the doubtful Prize possess, Pow’r gives him Right, and All the Claim confess.

It would be superfluous in me to point out to your Lordship that this is war.