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.

Here a little child I stand, Heaving up my either hand; Cold as paddocks though they be, Here I lift them up to Thee, for a benison to fall on our meat, and on us all. Amen.

In vain our labours are, whatsoe'er they be, unless God gives the Benediction.

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

In things a moderation keep; Kings ought to shear, not skin, their sheep.

It is the end that crowns us, not the fight.

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.