Bid me to love, and I will give a loving heart to thee.
A spark neglected makes a mighty fire.
If little labour, little are our gains: Man's fortunes are according to his pains.
Conquer we shall, but, we must first contend! It's not the fight that crowns us, but the end.
None pities him that is in the snare, who warned before, would not beware.
Let's live with that small pittance which we have; Who covets more is evermore a slave.
Humble we must be, if to heaven we go; High is the roof there, but the gate is low.
I dare not ask a kiss; I dare not beg a smile; Lest having that or this, I might grow proud the while. No, no, the utmost share Of my desire shall be Only to kiss that air, That lately kissed thee.
When the artless doctor sees No one hope, but of his fees, And his skill runs on the lees; Sweet Spirit, comfort me! When his potion and his pill, Has, or none, or little skill, Meet for nothing, but to kill; Sweet Spirit, comfort me!
The glorious lamp of heaven, the sun.
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.
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.
Men are suspicious; prone to discontent: Subjects still loathe the present Government.
It takes great wit and interest and energy to be happy. The pursuit of happiness is a great activity. One must be open and alive. It is the greatest feat man has to accomplish.
Bid me to live, and I will live Thy Protestant to be: Or bid me love, and I will give A loving heart to thee, A heart as soft, a heart as kind, A heart as sound and free As in the whole world thou canst find, That heart I'll give to thee.
Attempt the end and never stand to doubt; Nothing's so hard, but search will find it out.
Her eyes the glowworm lend thee, The shooting stars attend thee; And the elves also, Whose little eyes glow Like the sparks of fire, befriend thee.
Who with a little cannot be content, endures an everlasting punishment.
Drink wine, and live here blitheful while ye may; The morrow's life too late is; live to-day.
Twixt kings and tyrants there's this difference known; Kings seek their subjects' good: tyrants their own.
He who has suffered shipwreck, fears to sail Upon the seas, though with a gentle gale.
It is the end that crowns us, not the fight.
To the Virgins, To Make much of Time Gather ye rose-buds while ye may, Old Time is still a-flying; And this same flower that smiles today, Tomorrow will be dying. The glorious lamp of heaven, the sun, The higher he’s a-getting, The sooner will his race be run, And nearer he is to setting. That age is best which is the first, When youth and blood are warmer; But being spent, the worse, and worst Times still succeed the former. Then be not coy, but use your time, And while you may, go marry; For having lost but once your prime, You may for ever tarry.
In things a moderation keep; Kings ought to shear, not skin, their sheep.
In prayer the lips ne'er act the winning part, Without the sweet concurrence of the heart.
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