Travelers never did lie, though fools at home condemn them.
Till our King Henry had shook hands with Death.
But I will wear my heart upon my sleeve For daws to peck at: I am not what I am.
Although the last, not least.
Things are often spoke and seldom meant.
Hot lavender, mints, savory, marjoram; The marigold, that goes to bed wi' the sun, and with him rise weeping.