He loves his bonds who, when the first are broke, Submits his neck into a second yoke.
Tears are the noble language of the eye.
The glorious lamp of heaven, the sun.
Fain would I kiss my Julia's dainty leg, Which is as white and hairless as an egg.
O thou, the drink of gods and angels! Wine
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.