The sea all water, yet receives rain still,And in abundance addeth to his store,So thou being rich in will add to thy willOne will of mine to make thy large will more.

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.

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

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.