Can flowers but droop in absence of the sun,/ Which waked their sweets?

She knows her man, and when you rant and swear, / Can draw you to her with a single hair.

Better to hunt in fields, for health unbought, / Than fee the doctor for a nauseous draught, / The wise, for cure, on exercise depend; / God never made his work, for man to mend.

How easy ’tis, when / Destiny proves kind, / With full-spread sails to run before the wind!

On eagle’s wings immortal scandals fly, / While virtuous actions are but born and die.

Like eager Romans e’er all Rites were past, / Did let too soon the sacred Eagle fly.

Thou spring'st a leak already in thy crown, / A flaw is in thy ill-bak'd vessel found; / 'Tis hollow, and returns a jarring sound, / Yet thy moist clay is pliant to command, / Unwrought, and easy to the potter's hand: / Now take the mould; / now bend thy mind to feel / The first sharp motions of the forming wheel.

A rough diamond who must be polished first ere he shines.

Some sprinkled freckles on his face were seen, Whose dusk set off the whiteness of the skin.

And to explain what your forefathers meant, By real presence in the sacrament, After long fencing pushed against a wall, Your salvo comes, that he's not there at all: