When workmen strive to do better than well, they do confound their skill in covetousness.

Some men never seem to grow old. Always active in thought, always ready to adopt new ideas, they are never chargeable with foggyism. Satisfied, yet ever dissatisfied, settled, yet ever unsettled, they always enjoy the best of what is, are the first to find the best of what will be.

Love adds a precious seeing to the eye.

So we grew together like to a double cherry, seeming parted, but yet an union in partition, two lovely berries molded on one stem.

Conceit in weakest bodies works the strongest.

Then come kiss me, sweet and twenty.

Now, infidel, I have you on the hip!