Bid me to love, and I will give a loving heart to thee.
For pitty, Sir, find out that Bee Which bore my Love away I’le seek him in your Bonnet brave, I’le seek him in your eyes.
Give me a kiss, and to that kiss a score; Then to that twenty, add a hundred more: A thousand to that hundred: so kiss on, To make that thousand up a million. Treble that million, and when that is done, Let’s kiss afresh, as when we first begun.
Conquer we shall, but, we must first contend! It’s not the fight that crowns us, but the end.
The person lives twice who lives the first life well.
In prayer the lips ne’er act the winning part, Without the sweet concurrence of the heart.
In things a moderation keep; Kings ought to shear, not skin, their sheep.
It is the end that crowns us, not the fight.
A spark neglected makes a mighty fire.
Tears are the noble language of eyes, and when true love of words is destitute. The eye by tears speak, while the tongue is mute.