No daintie flowre or herbe that growes on grownd, No arborett with painted blossoms drest And smelling sweete, but there it might be fownd To bud out faire, and throwe her sweete smels al arownd.

Oft stumbles at a straw.

The noblest mind the best contentment has

Hard it is to teach the old horse to amble anew.

Rising glory occasions the greatest envy, as kindling fire the greatest smoke.

Gold all is not that doth golden seem.

Fresh spring the herald of love's mighty king.