We see the appearing buds--which to prove fruit,
Hope gives not so much warrant as despair
That frost will bite them.

_2nd Henry IV_, act i, sc. 3 (37).

(5) _Violet._

She never told her love,
But let concealment, like a worm i' the bud,
Feed on her damask cheek.

_Twelfth Night_, act ii, sc. 4 (113).

(6) _Proteus._

Yet writers say, as in the sweetest bud
The eating canker dwells, so eating love
Inhabits in the finest wits of all.

_Valentine._

And writers say as the most forward bud
Is eaten by the canker ere it blow,
Even so by love the young and tender wit
Is turn'd to folly, blasting in the bud,
Losing his verdure even in the prime
And all the fair effects of future hopes.

_Two Gentlemen of Verona_, act i, sc. 1 (42).

(7) _Capulet._

Death lies on her like an untimely frost
Upon the sweetest flower of the field.

_Romeo and Juliet_, act iv, sc. 5 (28).

(8) _Lysimachus._

O sir, a courtesy
Which if we should deny, the most just gods
For every graff would send a caterpillar,
And so afflict our province.

_Pericles_, act v, sc. 1 (58).

(9) _Wolsey._

This is the state of man: to-day he puts forth
The tender leaves of hopes, to-morrow blossoms,
And bears his blushing honours thick upon him:
The third day comes a frost, a killing frost,
And, when he thinks, good easy man, full surely
His greatness is a-ripening, nips his root,
And then he falls, as I do.

_Henry VIII_, act iii, sc. 2 (352).

(10) _Saturninus._

These tidings nip me, and I hang the head
As Flowers with frost, or Grass beat down with storms.

_Titus Andronicus_, act iv, sc. 4 (70).

(11)

No man inveigh against the withered flower,
But chide rough winter that the flower hath kill'd;
Not that devour'd, but that which doth devour,
Is worthy blame.

_Lucrece_ (1254).

(12)

For never-resting time leads summer on
To hideous winter, and confounds him there;
Sap check'd with frost a