Garlick maketh a man wynke, drynke, and stynke..

Spring, the sweet spring, is the year's pleasant king; Then blooms each thing, then maids dance in a ring, Cold doth not sting, the pretty birds do s….

As like a church and an ale-house, God and the devell, they manie times dwell neere to ether..

Beauty is but a flower, which wrinkles will devour..

All good things vanish in less than a day, Peace, plenty, pleasure, suddenly decay Go not yet away, bright soul of the sad year, The earth is hell wh….