When thou hast emptied thy soft purse,
  Take not from men more merchandise:
Full well I know they'd trust thy looks,
And enter no accounts in books
  Of goods bought by thy lovely eyes.

Take not advantage of that hand,
  That men, admiring it too much,
Forget the value of their stuff,
And think that empty hand enough -
  To make poor bankrupt men of such.

Let not that voice of thine, like silk
  Translated into sound, commend
Plain cloth to Jews, lest they should raise
The price of it to match thy praise,
  And the poor suffer in the end.