The amity that wisdom knits not, folly may easily untie.

How sweet the moonlight sleeps upon this bank Here we will sit, and let the sounds of music Creep in our ears; soft stillness, and the night Become the touches of sweet harmony

Come the three corners of the world in arms, and we shall shock them.

As many arrows, loosed several ways, come to one mark...so many a thousand actions, once afoot, end in one purpose.

See how she leans her cheek upon her hand. O, that I were a glove upon that hand That I might touch that cheek!

The icy precepts of respect.

Even as one heat another heat expels, or as one nail by strength drives out another, so the remembrance of my former love is by a newer object quite forgotten.