All our pride is but a jest. None are worst and none are best. Grief and hope and joy and fear Play their pageant everywhere.
A prudent pharmacist often vends something for your complaint. But wine merchant you do this invariably.
Never love unless you can bear with all the faults of man!
From heav'nly thoughts all true delight doth spring.
There is a garden in her eyes, where roses and white lilies flow.
Let now the chimneys blaze And cups o’erflow with wine... The summer hath his joys, And winter his delights; Though love and all his pleasures are but toys, They shorten tedious nights.