Up And Down, Up And Down I

But When The Fox Hath Once Got In His Nose, He'll Soon Find Means To Make The Body Follow.

People’s Good Deeds We Write In Water. The Evil Deeds Are Etched In Brass.

There Is A Willow Grows Aslant A Brook, That Shows His Hoar Leaves In The Glassy Stream; There With Fantastic Garlands Did She Come Of Crow-flowers, Nettles, Daisies, And Long Purples That Liberal Shepherds Give A Grosser Name, But Our Cold Maids Do Dead Men's Fingers Call Them: There, On The Pendent Boughs Her Coronet Weeds Clambering To Hang, An Envious Sliver Broke; When Down Her Weedy Trophies And Herself Fell In The Weeping Brook.

'tis Best To Weigh The Enemy More Mighty Than He Seems.

Why, All Delights Are Vain; But That Most Vain, Which, With Pain Purchas'd, Doth Inherit Pain.