Beshrew the heart that makes my heart to groan.
Full of wise saws and modern instances.
Oh, how this spring of love resembleth, The uncertain glory of an April day, Which now shows all beauty of the Sun, And by and by a cloud takes all away
To be direct and honest is not safe.
There's many a man hath more hair than wit.
Hereafter, in a better world than this, I shall desire more love and knowledge of you