Beauty provoketh thieves sooner than gold.

There's no trust, No faith, no honesty in men; all perjured, All forsworn, all naught, all dissemblers.

Love yourself; and in that love not unconsidered leave your honor.

And he goes through life, his mouth open, and his mind closed.

By my troth, I care not; a man can die but once; we owe God a death and let it go which way it will he that dies this year is quit for the next

When daisies pied and violets blue And lady-smocks all silver-white And cuckoo-buds of yellow hue Do paint the meadows with delight, The cuckoo then, on every tree, Mocks married men; for thus sings he, Cuckoo; Cuckoo, cuckoo; O, word of fear, Unpleasing to a married ear.

O! for a muse of fire, that would ascend the brightest heaven of invention.