Have I thought long to see this morning’s face, And doth it give me such a sight as this?
Women's weapons, water-drops.
Piece out our imperfections with your thoughts.
The love of heaven makes one heavenly.
The brain may devise laws for the blood, but a hot temper leaps o'er a cold decree.
Hot lavender, mints, savory, marjoram; The marigold, that goes to bed wi' the sun, and with him rise weeping.