Praising what is lost makes the remembrance dear.

Mine honour is my life; both grow in one; take honour from me and my life is done.

I wish you well and so I take my leave, I Pray you know me when we meet again.

Lady you bereft me of all words, Only my blood speaks to you in my veins, And there is such confusion in my powers.

How use doth breed a habit in a man.

Ill deeds are doubled with an evil word.

It is not enough to help the feeble up, but to support him after.

The soul of this man is in his clothes.