in black ink my love may still shine bright.
Pain pays the income of each precious thing.
The king's name is a tower of strength.
He doth nothing but talk of his horses.
We, ignorant of ourselves, Beg often our own harms, which the wise powers Deny us for our good; so find we profit By losing of our prayers.
God defend me from that Welsh fairy, Lest he transform me to a piece of cheese!