Verses Written under a Carving of Mercury Throwing Feathers unto the Wind -

The richest gift the wealthy heaven affords,

The pearl of price sent from immortal Jove,

The shape wherein we most resemble gods,

The fire Prometheus stole from lofty skies;

This gift, this pearl, this shape, this fire is it,

Which makes us men bold by the name of wit.

By wit we search divine aspect above,

By wit we learn what secret science yields,

By wit we speak, by wit the mind is rul'd,

By wit we govern all our actions:

Wit is the load-star of each human thought,

Wit is the tool by which all things are wrought.

The brightest jacinth hot becometh dark;

Of little 'steem is crystal being crack'd;

Fine heads that can conceit no good but ill,

Forge oft that breedeth ruin to themselves;

Ripe wits abus'd that build on bad desire,

Do burn themselves, like flies within the fire.