O! for a bowl of fat Canary

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.

None is happy but a glutton.

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.

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