Of him that hears it, never in the tongue
Of him that makes it.
Love's Labour's Lost. Act v. Sc. 2.
When daisies pied and violets blue,
And lady-smocks all silver-white,
And cuckoo-buds of yellow hue
Do paint the meadows with delight,
The cuckoo then, on every tree,
Mocks married men.
Love's Labour's Lost. Act v. Sc. 2.