For To Be Wise And Love Exceeds

You See Me Here, You Gods, A Poor Old Man, As Full Of Grief As Age; Wretched In Both.

You Dull Ass Will Not Mend His Pace With Beating.

Nature Teaches Beasts To Know Their Friends.

Mine Eyes Were Not In Fault, For She Was Beautiful; Mine Ears, That Heard Her Flattery; Nor My Heart, That Thought Her Like Her Seeming. It Had Been Vicious To Have Mistrusted Her.

That You Were Once Unkind Befriends Me Now, And For That Sorrow, Which I Then Did Feel, Needs Must I Under My Transgression Bow, Unless My Nerves Were Brass Or Hammered Steel.