A woman's at the core of every plot man plotteth Arm'd with Fear the Foe finds passage to the vital part Delay in thine undertaking Is disaster of thy own making Every failure is a step advanced Failures oft are but advising friends Fear nought so much as Fear itself How little a thing serves Fortune's turn If thou wouldst fix remembrance--thwack! Lest thou commence to lie--be dumb! Like an ill-reared fruit, first at the core it rotteth More culpable the sparer than the spared No runner can outstrip his fate Nought credit but what outward orbs reveal Persist, if thou wouldst truly reach thine ends Ripe with oft telling and old is the tale The curse of sorrow is comparison! The king without his crown hath a forehead like the clown The overwise themselves hoodwink 'Tis the first step that makes a path Too often hangs the house on one loose stone Vanity maketh the strongest most weak When to loquacious fools with patience rare I listen Where fools are the fathers of every miracle Who in a labyrinth wandereth without clue