Accusation.

Look how our foul days do exceed our fair;
And as our bad, more than our good works are,
E'en so those lines, pen'd by my wanton wit,
Treble the number of these good I've writ.
Things precious are least numerous: men are prone
To do ten bad for one good action.

Who after his transgression doth repent,
Is half, or altogether innocent.

Evil no nature hath; the loss of good
Is that which gives to sin a livelihood.

For punishment in war it will suffice
If the chief author of the faction dies;
Let but few smart, but strike a fear through all;
Where the fault springs there let the judgment fall.

When I shall sin, pardon my trespass here;
For once in hell, none knows remission there.

He that will live of all cares dispossess'd,
Must shun the bad, aye, and suspect the best.