The Fear's As Bad As Falling.

To Business That We Love We Rise Betime, And Go To't With Delight.

Some Cupid Kills With Arrows, Some With Traps.

And Oftentimes Excusing Of A Fault Doth Make The Fault The Worse By The Excuse.

The Thorny Point Of Bare Distress Hath Ta'en From Me The Show Of Smooth Civility; Yet Am I Inland Bred And Know Some Nurture.

Foul Fiend Of France And Hag Of All Despite, Encompassed With Thy Lustful Paramours, Becomes It Thee To Taunt His Valiant Age And Twit With Cowardice A Man Half Dead?