For to be wise and love exceeds man's might.
If one good deed in all my life I did, I do repent it from my very soul.
What drink'st thou oft, instead of homage sweet, But poisoned flattery?
We may outrun By violent swiftness And lose by over-running.
My pride fell with my fortunes.
Grief fills the room up of my absent child, Lies in his bed, walks up and down with me, Puts on his pretty look, repeats his words, Remembers me of his gracious parts, Stuffs out his vacant garments with his form