Thus times do shift, each thing his turn does hold; New things succeed, as former things grow old.
Humble we must be, if to heaven we go; High is the roof there, but the gate is low.
Give me a kiss, and to that kiss a score; Then to that twenty, add a hundred more: A thousand to that hundred: so kiss on, To make that thousand up a million. Treble that million, and when that is done, Let's kiss afresh, as when we first begun.
Outdid the meat, outdid the frolic wine.
Tears are the noble language of the eye.
In prayer the lips ne'er act the winning part, Without the sweet concurrence of the heart.