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Sorrow concealed, like an oven stopp'd,
Doth burn the heart to cinders, where it is.
Sorrow concealed, like an oven stopp'd,
Doth burn the heart to cinders, where it is.
A little and good fills the trencher.
A little and good fills the trencher.
A woman scorn'd is pitiless as fate,
For then the dread of shame adds stings to hate.
A woman scorn'd is pitiless as fate,
For then the dread of shame adds stings to hate.
Think you if Laura had been Petrarch's wife
He would have written sonnets all his life?
Think you if Laura had been Petrarch's wife
He would have written sonnets all his life?
Neither cast your pearls before swine.
Neither cast your pearls before swine.
For Lycidas is dead, dead ere his prime,
Young Lycidas, and hath not left his peer.
For Lycidas is dead, dead ere his prime,
Young Lycidas, and hath not left his peer.
A man of refined taste and judgment.
A man of refined taste and judgment.
Neither head, nor feet. [Referring to anything very intricate.]
Neither head, nor feet. [Referring to anything very intricate.]
