And to the English court assemble now, From every region, apes of idleness!

His steeds to water at those springs On chaliced flowers that lies; And winking Mary-buds begin To ope their golden eyes: With every thing that pretty is, My lady sweet, arise.

How much more doth beauty beauteous seem by that sweet ornament which truth doth give!

O thou that dost inhabit in my breast, leave not the mansion so long tenantless; lest, growing ruinous, the building fall and leave no memory of what it was!

Well, honor is the subject of my story.

Thou art a very ragged Wart.

So distribution should undo excess, and each man have enough.