He that stands upon a slippery place, makes nice of no vile hold to stay him up

So slippery thatThe fear's as bad as falling.

O vile,Intolerable, not to be endured!

Things base and vile, holding no quantity, love can transpose to form and dignity. Love looks not with the eye, but with the mind, and therefore is winged Cupid painted blind.

Stay we no longer, dreaming of renown, But sound the trumpets, and about our task

For I can raise no money by vile means.