Robert Greene

Then grew a wrinkle on fair Venus' brow,
The amber sweet of love is turn'd to gall!
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Then grew a wrinkle on fair Venus' brow,
The amber sweet of love is turn'd to gall!
Gloomy was Heaven; bright Phoebus did avow
He would be coy, and would not love at all;
Swearing no greater mischief could be wrought,
Than love united to a jealous thought.

Sweet are the thoughts that savour of content;
The quiet mind is richer than a crown;
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Sweet are the thoughts that savour of content;
The quiet mind is richer than a crown;
Sweet are the nights in careless slumber spent;
The poor estate scorns fortune's angry frown:
Such sweet content, such minds, such sleep, such bliss,
Beggars enjoy, when princes oft do miss.

Set a beggar on horse backe, they saie, and hee will neuer
alight.

Set a beggar on horse backe, they saie, and hee will neuer
alight.

He kept no Christmas-house for once a yeere,
Each day his boards were fild with Lordly fare;
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He kept no Christmas-house for once a yeere,
Each day his boards were fild with Lordly fare;
He fed a rout of yeoman with his cheer,
Nor was his bread and beefe kept in with care;
His wine and beere to strangers were not spare,
And yet beside to all that hunger greved,
His gates were open, and they were there relived.

Stop shallow water from running, it will rage; tread on a worm
and it will turn.

Stop shallow water from running, it will rage; tread on a worm
and it will turn.