The thief, when he doth steal, thinks he doth gain;
Yet then the greatest loss he doth sustain.

Who falls into the fire shall burn with heat;
While those remote scorn from it to retreat.

Methinks I see a sight most excellent,
All sorts of birds fly in the firmament:

The mole's a creature very smooth and slick,
She digs i' th' dirt, but 'twill not on her stick;