Give me, kind heaven, a private station, a mind serene for contemplation.
What happiness the rural maid attends, In cheerful labour while each day she spends! She gratefully receives what Heav'n has sent, And, rich in poverty, enjoys content.
One common fate we both must prove; You die with envy, I with love.
A man is always afraid of a woman that loves him too much
Fair words cost nothing.
Fair is the kingcup that in meadow blows, Fair is the daisy that beside her grows.