Tis No Sin For A Man To

For Trust Not Him That Hath Once Broken Faith

No, Time, Thou Shalt Not Boast That I Do Change.

Desire Of Having Is The Sin Of Covetousness.

I Have Neither The Scholar's Melancholy, Which Is Emulation; Nor The Musician's, Which Is Fantastical; Nor The Courtier's, Which Is Proud; Not The Soldier's Which Is Ambitious; Nor The Lawyer's, Which Is Politic; Nor The Lady's, Which Is Nice; Nor The Lover's, Which Is All These: But It Is A Melancholy Of Mine Own, Compounded Of Many Simples, Extracted From Many Objects, And Indeed The Sundry Contemplation Of My Travels, Which, By Often Rumination, Wraps Me In A Most Humorous Sadness.

Is He On His Horse? O Happy Horse, To Bear The Weight Of Antony!