Patch grief with proverbs.
O God, O God, how weary, stale, flat, and unprofitable seem to me all the uses of this world!
Who wooed in haste, and means to wed at leisure.
Foul whisperings are abroad
Four days will quickly steep themselves in nights; Four nights will quickly dream away the time; And then the moon, like to a silver bow new bent in heaven, shall behold the night of our solemnities.
How easy it is for the proper-false in woman's waxen hearts to set their forms!