Fortune Reigns In Gifts Of The World.

Though This Be Madness, Yet There Is Method In't.

Hope Is A Lover's Staff; Walk Hence With That And Manage It Against Despairing Thoughts.

But Here's The Joy: My Friend And I Are One, Sweet Flattery!

Then Will I Raise Aloft The Milk-white Rose. For Whose Sweet Smell The Air Shall Be Perfumed.

I Would With Such Perfection Govern, Sir, T'excel The Golden Age.