Why, What Should Be The Fear? I

My Dull Brain Was Wrought With Things Forgotten.

For Naught So Vile That On The Earth Doth Live But To The Earth Some Special Good Doth Give.

He Shall Spurn Fate, Scorn Death, And Bear His Hopes 'bove Wisdom, Grace And Fear: And You All Know, Security Is Mortals' Chiefest Enemy.

Our Fancies Are More Giddy And Unfirm, More Longing, Wavering, Sooner Lost And Won, Than Women's Are.

Beauty Provoketh Thieves Sooner Than Gold.