And oftentimes excusing of a fault Doth make the fault the worse by the excuse, As patches set upon a little breach, Discredit more in hiding of the fault Than did the fault before it was so patch'd.

The world is grown so bad, That wrens make prey where eagles dare not perch.

See how she leans her cheek upon her hand. O, that I were a glove upon that hand That I might touch that cheek!

Tears harden lust, though marble wear with raining.

A light wife doth make a heavy husband.

It easeth some, though none it ever cured, to think their dolour others have endured.

There's rosemary, that's for remembrance. Pray you, love, remember.