Preferred three hours quicker over one moment late.
Let us not burden our remembrances with a heaviness that's gone.
Suspicion shall be all stuck full of eyes.
I, measuring his affections by my own, Which then most sought where most might not be found, Being one too many by my weary self, Pursued my humor not pursuing his, And gladly shunned who gladly fled from me.
Most subject is the fattest soil to weeds.
Comfort's in heaven, and we are on the earth