And down I went to fetch my bride: But, Alice, you were ill at ease; This dress and that by turns you tried, Too fearful that you should not please. I loved you better for your fears, I knew you could not look but well; And dews, that would have fall'n in tears, I kiss'd away before they fell.

God made thee good as thou art beautiful.

Shall love be blamed for want of faith?

It is hard to wive and thrive both in a year.

Dear as remembered kisses after death, And sweet as those by hopeless fancy feign'd On lips that are for others; deep as love, Deep as first love, and wild with all regret; O Death in Life, the days that are no more!

Courtesy wins woman all as well. As valor may, but he that closes both is perfect.

I must lose myself in action, lest I wither in despair.