Love all, trust a few, Do wrong to none: be able for thine enemy Rather in power than use; and keep thy friend Under thy own life's key: be check'd for silence, But never tax'd for speech.

He receives comfort like cold porridge.

My hounds are bred out of the Spartan kind; So flew'd, so sanded; their heads are hung with ears that sweep away the morning dew.

in black ink my love may still shine bright.

Good wine needs no bush.

Wine loved I deeply, dice dearly.

There's her cousin, an she were not possessed with a fury, exceeds her as much in beauty as the first of May doth the last of December.