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

What king so strong Can tie the gall up in the slanderous tongue?

Our doubts are traitors And make us lose the good we oft might win By fearing to attempt.

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

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.

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

the body public be A horse whereon the governor doth ride, Who, newly in the seat, that it may know He can command, lets it straight feel the spur;

liberty plucks justice by the nose;

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