More from John Lyly
None is happy but a glutton.
Be valyaunt, but not too venturous. Let thy attyre bee comely, but not costly.
: 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.
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.
Though the Camomill, the more it is trodden and pressed downe the more it spreadeth.