Bid me to love, and I will give a loving heart to thee.

Gather ye rose-buds while ye may, Old Time is still a flying: And this same flower that smiles to day, Tomorrow will be dying.

So when or you or I are made A fable, song, or fleeting shade; All love, all liking, all delight Lies drowned with us in endless night. Then while time serves, and we are but decaying; Come, my Corinna, come, let's go a Maying.

Bid me to love, and I will give a loving heart to thee.

Those Saints, which God loves best, The Devil tempts not least.

It takes great wit and interest and energy to be happy. The pursuit of happiness is a great activity. One must be open and alive. It is the greatest feat man has to accomplish.

Things are evermore sincere; / Candor here, and lustre there / Delighting.