Take no repulse, whatever she doth say; For 'get you gone,' she doth not mean 'away.' Flatter and praise, commend, extol their graces; Though ne'er so black, say they have angels' faces

Adversity makes strange bedfellows.

Parting is such sweet sorrow

O! that a man might know The end of this day's business, ere it come; But it sufficeth that the day will end, And then the end is known.

We must be gentle now we are gentlemen.

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

Evermore thanks, the exchequer of the poor