Twas never merry world Since lowly feigning was called compliment.

Cowards die many times; a brave man dies but once.

Mine eyes are full of tears, my heart of grief.

Some grief shows much of love, But much of grief shows still some want of wit.

I am afeard there are few die well that die in battle, for how can they charitably dispose of anything when blood is their argument?

We must love men, ere to us they will seem worthy of our love.

Now, God be praised, that to believing souls gives light in darkness, comfort in despair.