Come away, come away, Death, And in sad cypress let me be laid; Fly away, fly away, breath, I am slain by a fair cruel maid. My shroud of white stuck all with yew, O prepare it! My part of death no one so true did share it. Not a flower, not a flower sweet, On my black coffin let there be strewn: Not a friend, not a friend greet My poor corpse, where my bones shall be thrown. A thousand thousand sighs to save, lay me O where Sad true lover never find my grave, to weep there!

We came into the world like brother and brother, And now let's go hand in hand, not one before another.

One fire burns out another's burning, One pain is lessen'd by another's anguish.

Such antics do not amount to a man.

It is a good divine that follows his own instructions.

Speak on, but be not over-tedious.

A jest's prosperity lies in the ear