Pains of love be sweeter far than all other pleasures are.

For all the happiness mankind can gain Is not in pleasure, but in rest from pain.

Swift was the race, but short the time to run.

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.

They think too little who talk too much.

He with a graceful pride, While his rider every hand survey'd, Sprung loose, and flew into an escapade; Not moving forward, yet with every bound Pressing, and seeming still to quit his ground.

Be secret and discreet; the fairy favors are lost when not concealed.