Who is wise in love, love most, say least.
Nor is it wiser to weep a true occasion lost, but trim our sails, and let old bygones be.
Gorgonised me from head to foot With a stony British stare.
And common is the commonplace, And vacant chaff well meant for grain.
He that wrongs his friend, wrongs himself more.
...and our spirits rushed together at the touching of the lips.