Expect Saint Martin's summer, halcyon days.
Unbidden guests Are often welcomest when they are gone.
But in these nice sharp quillets of the law, Good faith, I am no wiser than a daw. Let him that is a true-born gentleman, And stands upon the honour of his birth, If he suppose that I have pleaded truth, From off this brier pluck a white rose with me. But dare maintain the party of the truth, Pluck a red rose from off this thorn with me. Delays have dangerous ends. So doth the swan her downy cygnets save, Keeping them prisoners underneath her wings.