Stars, Hide Your Fires; Let Not Light

Though Those That Are Betray'd Do Feel The Treason Sharply, Yet The Traitor Stands In Worse Case Of Woe

Men Have Died From Time To Time, And Worms Have Eaten Them, But Not For Love.

These Violent Delights Have Violent Ends And In Their Triump Die, Like Fire And Powder Which, As They Kiss, Consume

Some Glory In Their Birth , Some In Their Skill , Some In Their Wealth , Some In Their Bodies' Force , Some In Their Garments, Though New-fangled Ill; Some In Their Hawks And Hounds , Some In Their Horse ; And Every Humor Hath His Adjunct Pleasure , Wherein It Finds A Joy Above The Rest .

The Purest Treasure Mortal Times Can Afford Is A Spotless Reputation.