When a daffadill I see, Hanging down his head towards me, Guess I may, what I must be: First, I shall decline my head; Secondly, I shall be dead: Lastly, safely buryed.
A spark neglected makes a mighty fire.
O thou, the drink of gods and angels! Wine
I do love I know not what; Sometimes this, and sometimes that.
Tears are the noble language of the eye.
Outdid the meat, outdid the frolic wine.