My merry, merry, merry roundelay Concludes with Cupid’s curse: They that do change old love for new, Pray gods, they change for worse! - George Peele

His golden locks time hath to silver turned;
O time too swift! O swiftness never ceasing!
His youth ’gainst time and age hath ever spurned,
But spurned in vain; youth waneth by encreasing.

What thing is love?—for (well I wot) love is a thing It is a prick, it is a sting, It is a pretty, pretty thing; It is a fire, it is a coal, Whose flame creeps in at every hole!

Villain, a horse--
Villain, I say, give me a horse to fly,
To swim the river, villain, and to fly.