Such subtle Covenants shall be made,Till Peace it self is War in Masquerade.
Blown roses hold their sweetness to the last.
Joy rul'd the day, and Love the night.
Trust reposed in noble natures obliges them the more.
Politicians neither love nor hate.
Jealousy's a proof of love, But 'tis a weak and unavailing medicine; It puts out the disease and makes it show, But has no power to cure.