If ever thou be'st bound in thy scarf and beaten, thou shalt find what it is to be proud of thy bondage.

Being holiday, the beggar's shop is shut.

Hot lavender, mints, savory, marjoram; The marigold, that goes to bed wi' the sun, and with him rise weeping.

Men should be what they seem; Or those that be not, would they might seem none!.

Thy head is as full of quarrels as an egg is full of meat, and yet thy head hath been beaten as addle as an egg for quarrelling.

There lives within the very flame of love A kind of wick or snuff that will abate it.

Ay me! sad hours seem long.