Though Death be poor, it ends a mortal woe.

Make passionate my sense of hearing.

Care for us! True, indeed! They ne'er cared for us yet: suffer us to famish, and their storehouses crammed with grain; make edicts for usury, to support usurers; repeal daily any wholesome act established against the rich, and provide more piercing statutes daily to chain up and restrain the poor. If the wars eat us not up, they will; and there's all the love they bear us.

I’ll look to like, if looking liking move; But no more deep will I endart mine eye than your consent gives strength to make it fly.

A good heart is the sun and the moon; or, rather, the sun and not the moon, for it shines bright and never changes.

Under the greenwood tree, Who loves to lie with me And tune his merry note, Unto the sweet bird's throat; Come hither, come hither, come hither. Here shall he see No enemy But winter and rough weather.

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