Why, all delights are vain, but that most vain Which, with pain purchased, doth inherit pain: As, painfully to pore upon a book, To seek the light of truth, which truth the while Doth falsely blind the eyesight of his look.

This Tharsus, o'er which I have the government, A city on whom Plenty held full hand, For Riches strewed herself even in her streets; Whose towers bore heads so high they kissed the clouds, And strangers ne'er beheld but wond'red at; Whose men and dames so jetted and adorned, Like one another's glass to trim them by; Their tables were stored full, to glad the sight, And not so much to feed on as delight; All poverty was scorned, and pride so great The name of help grew odious to repeat.

These violent delights have violent ends And in their triumph die, like fire and powder, Which, as they kiss, consume.

Man delights not me--nor woman neither, though, by your smiling you seem to say so.

Sweets grown common lose their dear delight

Energy is eternal delight