Delay leads impotent and snail-paced beggary.
In springtime, the only pretty ring time Birds sing, hey ding A-ding, a-ding Sweet lovers love the spring—
Love is the greatest of dreams, yet the worst of nightmares.
O, swear not by the moon, the fickle moon, the inconstant moon, that monthly changes in her circle orb, Lest that thy love prove likewise variable
O, I do not like that paying back, 'tis a double labor.
The old folk, time's doting chronicles.