None is happy but a glutton

Be valyaunt, but not too venturous. Let thy attyre bee comely, but not costly.

For wenches, wine, and lusty cheer, Jove would leap down to surfeit here.

What bird so sings, yet so does wail? Oh, 'tis the ravished nightingale. "Jug, jug, jug, jug, tereu," she cries, And still her woes at midnight rise.

: Were women never to fair, men would be false. : Were women never so false, men would be fond.

O! for a bowl of fat Canary, Rich Palermo, sparkling Sherry.

Though the Camomill, the more it is trodden and pressed downe the more it spreadeth.