To the Virgins, To Make much of Time Gather ye rose-buds while ye may, Old Time is still a-flying; And this same flower that smiles today, Tomorrow will be dying. The glorious lamp of heaven, the sun, The higher he’s a-getting, The sooner will his race be run, And nearer he is to setting. That age is best which is the first, When youth and blood are warmer; But being spent, the worse, and worst Times still succeed the former. Then be not coy, but use your time, And while you may, go marry; For having lost but once your prime, You may for ever tarry.

Like will to like, each creature loves his kind.

Fain would I kiss my Julia's dainty leg, Which is as white and hairless as an egg.

Against diseases here the strongest fence is the defensive vertue, Abstinence.

Conquer we shall, but, we must first contend! It's not the fight that crowns us, but the end.

O thou, the drink of gods and angels! Wine

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