Sorrow, like a heavy ringing bell, once set on ringing, with its own weight goes; then little strength rings out the doleful knell.

Now join your hands, and with your hands your hearts.

Give obedience where 'tis truly owed.

Free from gross passion or of mirth or anger

The bird that hath been limed in a bush, with trembling wings misdoubteth every bush.

Beauty's a doubtful good, a glass, a flower, Lost, faded, broken, dead within an hour; And beauty, blemish'd once, for ever's lost, In spite of physic, painting, pain, and cost.

Let life be short, else shame will be too long.