Ah! when will this long weary day have end, And lende me leave to come unto my love? - Epithalamion
Entire affection hateth nicer hands.
And through the hall there walked to and fro A jolly yeoman, marshall of the same, Whose name was Appetite; he did bestow Both guestes and meate, whenever in they came, And knew them how to order without blame.
Ah, fool! faint heart fair lady ne'er could win.
For evil deeds may better than bad words be borne.
Hard it is to teach the old horse to amble anew.