Who will not mercy unto others show, How can he mercy ever hope to have?

The nightingale is sovereign of song.

This iron world bungs down the stoutest hearts to lowest state; for misery doth bravest minds abate.

Be bold, and everywhere be bold.

One day I wrote her name upon the strand, But came the waves and washèd it away: Again I wrote it with a second hand, But came the tide, and made my pains his prey.

But times do change and move continually.

Ill can he rule the great that cannot reach the small.