Chi va, e ritorna, fa buon viaggio.
I fare like him who, now his land-hope spent,
By unknown seas, sails to the Indian shore;
Returning thence no richer than he went,
Yet cannot much his fortune blame therefore.
Since "Whoso ventures forth upon the Main,
Makes a good mart, if he return again."
XVI.
Lovers' Conceits are like a flatt'ring Glass,
That makes the lookers fairer than they are;
Who, pleased in their deceit, contented pass.
Such once was mine, who thought there was none fair,
None witty, modest, virtuous but She;
Yet now I find the Glass abusèd me.
XVII.
Adieu, fond Love! the Mother of all Error!
Replete with hope and fear, with joy and pain.
False fire of Fancy! full of care and terror.
Shadow of pleasures fleeting, short, and vain!
Die, loathèd Love! Receive thy latest doom!
"Night be thy grave! and Oblivion be thy tomb!"
XVIII.
Nihil agendo male agere discimus.
Who would be rapt up into the third heaven
To see a world of strange imaginations?
Who, careless, would leave all at six and seven,
To wander in a labyrinth of Passions?
Who would, at once, all kinds of folly prove;
When he hath nought to do, then let him love!