When you do dance, I wish you a wave o' the sea, that you might ever do nothing but that.

Come what sorrow can, It cannot countervail the exchange of joy, That one short minute gives me in her sight

Here's that which is too weak to be a sinner, honest water, which ne'er left man i' the mire.

Never anything can be amiss, when simpleness and duty tender it.

I can get no remedy against this consumption of the purse: borrowing only lingers and lingers it out, but the disease is incurable.

Lawn as white as driven snow; Cyprus black as e'er was crow; Gloves as sweet as damask roses.

His heart as far from fraud as heaven from earth.