Love is . . . a madness most discreet

He that wants money, means, and content is without three good friends.

What showers arise, blown with the windy tempest of my heart

Not all the water in the rough rude sea Can wash the balm from an anointed King.

He took the bride about the neck and kissed her lips with such a clamorous smack that at the parting all the church did echo.

All that glitters is not gold; Often have you heard that told: Many a man his life has sold But my outside to behold: Gilded tombs do worms enfold Had you been as wise as bold, Your in limbs, in judgment old, Your answer had not been in'scroll'd Fare you well: your suit is cold.' Cold, indeed, and labour lost: Then, farewell, heat and welcome, frost!

To sue to live, I find I seek to die; And, seeking death, find life: let it come on.