The little dogs and all, Tray, Blanch, and Sweetheart-see, they bark at me.
Thou hast nor youth nor age But as it were an after dinner sleep Dreaming of both.
Time travels in divers paces with divers persons.
Words, vows, gifts, tears, and love's full sacrifice, He offers in another's enterprise; But more in Troilus thousand-fold I see Than in the glass of Pandar's praise may be, Yet hold I off.
Love is too young to know what conscience is.
Feed on her damask cheek: she pined in thought, And with a green and yellow melancholy She sat like patience on a monument, Smiling at grief