Fill it up. I take as large draughts of liquor as I did of love. I hate a flincher in either.
I never, with important air, In conversation overbear. . . . . My tongue within my lips I rein; For who talks much must talk in vain.
Learning by study must be won; 'Twas ne'er entail'd from son to son.
In love we are all fools alike.
Whence is thy learning? Hath thy toil O'er books consumed the midnight oil?
The sun was set; the night came on apace, And falling dews bewet around the place; The bat takes airy rounds on leathern wings, And the hoarse owl his woeful dirges sings.