Truth is the trial of itself

That old bald cheater, Time.

Slow, slow, fresh fount, keep time with my salt tears: Yet, slower, yet; O faintly, gentle springs: List to the heavy part the music bears, Woe weeps out her division, when she sings. Droop herbs, and flowers, Fall grief in showers,

True happiness Consists not in the multitude of friends, But in the worth and choice.

Queen and huntress, chaste and fair, Now the sun is laid to sleep, Seated in thy silver chair, State in wonted manner keep: Hesperus entreats thy light, Goddess, excellently bright.

There shall be no love lost.

Of all wild beasts preserve me from a tyrant; and of all tame, a flatterer.