If thou art rich, thou art poor; for, like an ass, whose back with ingots bows, thou bearest thy heavy riches but a journey, and death unloads thee.

Women are not In their best fortunes strong, but want will perjure the ne'er-touched vestal.

My love is thine to teach; teach it but how, And thou shalt see how apt it is to learn. Any hard lesson that may do thee good.

He that dies pays all debts.

Oh, flatter me; for love delights in praises.

Season your admiration for a while.

He is dead and gone, lady, He is dead and gone; At his head a grass-green turf, At his heels a stone.