Too much to know is to know naught but fame.
To you your father should be as a god.
So full of artless jealousy is guilt, It spills itself in fearing to be spilt.
My love is thaw'd; Which, like a waxen image 'gainst a fire, bears no impression of the thing it was
Britain is A world by itself, and we will nothing pay For wearing our own noses.
My love is thine to teach; teach it but how, And thou shalt see how apt it is to learn. Any hard lesson that may do thee good.