Plain and not honest is too harsh a style.

Of chastity, the ornaments are chaste.

Blow, blow, thou winter wind Thou art not so unkind, As man's ingratitude.

I wonder that you will still be talking. Nobody marks you.

My pride fell with my fortunes.

Time goes on crutches till love have all his rites.

True hope is swift, and flies with swallow's wings.