Sweet is old wine in bottles, ale in barrels.

Though I love my country, I do not love my countrymen.

Since Eve ate the apple, much depends on dinner.

On with the dance! let joy be unconfin'd No sleep till morn, when Youth and Pleasure meet To chase the Glowing Hours with Flying feet

When we two parted In silence and tears, Half broken-hearted, To sever for years.

As soon seek roses in December, ice in June, Hope constancy in wind, or corn in chaff Believe a woman or an epitaph Or any other thing that’s false Before you trust in critics.

The busy have no time for tears.