Ah, fool! faint heart fair lady ne'er could win.
This iron world bungs down the stoutest hearts to lowest state; for misery doth bravest minds abate.
For since mine eyes your joyous sight did miss, my cheerful day is turned to cheerless night.
Fresh spring the herald of love's mighty king.
And painful pleasure turns to pleasing pain.
Oft stumbles at a straw.