If all the year were playing holidays; To sport would be as tedious as to work.

in black ink my love may still shine bright.

I understand thy kisses, and thou mine, And that's a feeling disputation.

It comes to pass oft that a terrible oath, with a swaggering accent sharply twanged off, gives manhood more approbation than ever proof itself would have earned him.

I feel within me a peace above all earthly dignities, a still and quiet conscience.

On the bat’s back I do fly After summer merrily.

Adversity makes strange bedfellows.