Time shall unfold what plaited cunning hides: Who cover faults, at last shame them derides.
Fair thoughts and happy hours attend on you.
Heaven take my soul, and England keep my bones!
I will live in thy heart, die in thy lap, and be buried in thy eyes—and moreover, I will go with thee to thy uncle’s.
The love that follows us sometime is our trouble, which still we thank as love.
Hang those that talk of fear.