Full of wise saws and modern instances.
O Death, made proud with pure and princely beauty!
Being your slave what should I do but tend, Upon the hours, and times of your desire? I have no precious time at all to spend; Nor services to do till you require.
God shall be my hope, my stay, my guide and lantern to my feet.
Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May.
Things without all remedy should be without regard: what's done is done.