Your covetous hand, Happy in that fair honour it hath gained,
Must now be reined.
True valour doth her own renown commend In one full action; nor have you now more To do than be a husband of that store.
Think but how dear you bought
This same which you have caught Such thoughts will make you more in love with truth.
'Tis wisdom, and that high, For men to use their fortune reverently, Even in youth.
IV
HONOUR IN BUD
IT is not growing like a tree
In bulk doth make man better be :
A lily of a day
Is fairer far in May : Although it fall and die that night, It was the plant and flower of light.
Jonson.
v THE JOY OF BATTLE
ARM, arm, arm, arm! the scouts are all come in; Keep your ranks close, and now your honours win. Behold from yonder hill the foe appears; Bows, bills, glaives, arrows, shields, and spears!
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