Nor Use Too Swelling, Or Ill-sounded Words

Spread Yourself Upon His Bosom Publicly, Whose Heart You Would Eat In Private.

It Is An Art To Have So Much Judgment As To Apparel A Lie Well, To Give It A Good Dressing.

God Wisheth None Should Wreck On A Strange Shelf: To Him Man's Dearer Than To Himself.

Now We Are All Fallen, Youth From Their Fear, And Age From That Which Bred It, Good Example.

Though I Am Young, And Cannot Tell Either What Death Or Love Is Well, Yet I Have Heard They Both Bear Darts, And Both Do Aim At Human Hearts. And Then Again, I Have Been Told Love Wounds With Heat, As Death With Cold; So That I Fear They Do But Bring Extremes To Touch, And Mean One Thing. As In A Ruin We It Call One Thing To Be Blown Up, Or Fall; Or To Our End Like Way May Have By A Flash Of Lightning, Or A Wave; So Love’s Inflamèd Shaft Or Brand May Kill As Soon As Death’s Cold Hand; Except Love’s Fires The Virtue Have To Fight The Frost Out Of The Grave.