A bride, before a "Good-night" could be said, Should vanish from her clothes into her bed, As souls from bodies steal, and are not spied. But now she's laid; what though she be? Yet there are more delays, for where is he? He comes and passeth through sphere after sphere; First her sheets, then her arms, then anywhere. Let not this day, then, but this night be thine; Thy day was but the eve to this, O Valentine.

Christ beats his drum, but he does not press men; Christ is served with voluntaries.

Be thine own palace, or the world's thy jail.

For God's sake hold your tongue, and let me love.

Love, all alike, no season knows, nor clime, nor hours, days, months, which are the rags of time.

Though truth and falsehood be Near twins, yet truth a little elder is.

Festive alcohol sometimes leads to an excess of honesty.