Out of this nettle - danger - we pluck this flower - safety.

O, grief hath changed me since you saw me last, And careful hours with Time's deformed hand Have written strange defeatures in my face. But tell me yet, dost thou not know my voice?

The patient must minister to himself

And worse I may be yet: the worst is not So long as we can say 'This is the worst.

Thou hast no figures nor no fantasies Which busy care draws in the brains of men; Therefore thou sleep'st so sound.

My charity is outrage, life my shame; And in that shame still live my sorrow's rage!

Where the bee sucks, there suck I In the cow-slip's bell i lie There I couch when owls do cry