Those Saints, which God loves best, The Devil tempts not least.
Bid me to love, and I will give a loving heart to thee.
None pities him that is in the snare, who warned before, would not beware.
Tears are the noble language of the eye.
When a daffadill I see, Hanging down his head towards me, Guess I may, what I must be: First, I shall decline my head; Secondly, I shall be dead: Lastly, safely buryed.
Outdid the meat, outdid the frolic wine.