Mischiefs Feed / Like Beasts, Till They

Men That Talk Of Their Own Benefits Are Not Believed To Talk Of Them Because They Have Done Them, But To Have Done Them Because They Might Talk Of Them.

In Small Proportions We Just Beauties See; And In Short Measures, Life May Perfect Be.

Though I Am Young, And Cannot Tell Either What Death Or Love Is Well, Yet I Have Heard They Both Bear Darts, And Both Do Aim At Human Hearts. And Then Again, I Have Been Told Love Wounds With Heat, As Death With Cold; So That I Fear They Do But Bring Extremes To Touch, And Mean One Thing. As In A Ruin We It Call One Thing To Be Blown Up, Or Fall; Or To Our End Like Way May Have By A Flash Of Lightning, Or A Wave; So Love’s Inflamèd Shaft Or Brand May Kill As Soon As Death’s Cold Hand; Except Love’s Fires The Virtue Have To Fight The Frost Out Of The Grave.

To The Old, Long Life And Treasure; To The Young, All Health And Pleasure.

As It Is A Great Point Of Art, When Our Matter Requires It, To Enlarge And Veer Out All Sail, So To Take It In And Contract It Is Of No Less Praise When The Argument Doth Ask It.