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.