Where Nature's end of language is declin'd, And men talk only to conceal the mind.
But love, like wine, gives a tumultuous bliss, Heighten'd indeed beyond all mortal pleasures; But mingles pangs and madness in the bowl.
The maid that loves goes out to sea upon a shattered plank, and puts her trust in miracles for safety.
When men of infamy to grandeur soar, They light a torch to show their shame the more.
Wishing of all employments is the worst
Friendship's the wine of life: but friendship new... is neither strong nor pure.