My Dancing Days Are Past.

Like A Rough Orator, That Brings More Truth Than Rhetoric, To Make Good His Accusation.

What Pity 'tis, One That Can Speak So Well, Should In His Actions Be So Ill!

Pleasures Of Worse Natures Are Gladly Entertained, And They That Shun Us Practice In Private Sports The Stews Would Blush At.

Though The Desire Of Fame Be The Last Weakness Wise Men Put Off.

They Are Only Safe That Know To Soothe The Prince's Appetite, And Serve His Lusts.