MARIGOLD/MARY-BUD

PERDITA

The MARIGOLD that goes to bed wi’ the sun,

And with him rises weeping; these are flowers

Of middle summer.

—Winter’s Tale [Act IV, sc. 4]

MARINA

The purple violets and MARIGOLDS

Shall, as a carpet, hang upon thy grave

While summer-days do last.

—Pericles [Act IV, sc. 1]

SONG [CLOTEN]

And winking MARY-BUDS begin

To ope their golden eyes.

—Cymbeline [Act II, sc. 3]

SONG [BOY]

MARIGOLDS on death-beds blowing.

—Two Noble Kinsmen [Act I, sc. 1]

Great princes’ favourites their fair leaves spread

But as the MARIGOLDS at the sun’s eye

And in themselves their pride lies buried,

For at a frown they in their glory die.

—Sonnet XXV

Her eyes, like MARIGOLDS,

had sheathed their light,

And canopied in darkness sweetly lay,

Till they might open to adorn the day.

—Lucrece