back-wounding calumny The whitest virtue strikes.

liberty plucks justice by the nose;

Thou bear's thy heavy riches but a journey, And death unloads thee.

The jewel that we find, we stoop and take't Because we see it; but what we do not see We tread upon, and never think of it.

That life is better life, past fearing death, Than that which lives to fear:

it oft falls out, To have what we would have, we speak not what we mean:

There is scarce truth enough alive to make societies secure; but security enough to make fellowships accurst: much upon this riddle runs the wisdom of the world. This news is old enough, yet it is every day's news.

They say, best men are moulded out of faults; And, for the most, become much more the better For being a little bad:

thou art death's fool; For him thou labour'st by thy flight to shun And yet runn'st toward him still.