My tongue will tell the anger of mine heart, Or else my heart, concealing it, will break.

For the rain it raineth every day.

But when I came, alas, to wive, With hey, ho, the wind and the rain, By swaggering could I never thrive, For the rain it raineth every day.

Exit, pursued by a bear.

When to the sessions of sweet silent thought
I summon up remembrance of things past,
I sigh the lack of many a thing I sought,
And with old woes new wail my dear time's waste.

Farewell! thou art too dear for my possessing.