Right joyous are we to behold your face, Most worthy brother England; fairly met!

Thou art as wise as thou art beautiful

One fairer than my love? The all-seeing sun Ne'er saw her match since first the world begun.

I find my zenith doth depend upon A most auspicious star, whose influence If now I court not, but omit, my fortunes Will ever after droop.

We make guilty of our disasters the sun, the moon, and the stars; as if we were villians by compulsion.

The robbed that smiles, steals something from the thief.

There is a willow grows aslant a brook, That shows his hoar leaves in the glassy stream; There with fantastic garlands did she come Of crow-flowers, nettles, daisies, and long purples That liberal shepherds give a grosser name, But our cold maids do dead men's fingers call them: There, on the pendent boughs her coronet weeds Clambering to hang, an envious sliver broke; When down her weedy trophies and herself Fell in the weeping brook.