What I have done is yours; what I have to do is yours; being part in all I have, devoted yours.
Good morning to you, fair and gracious daughter.
This bud of love, by summer's ripening breath, May prove a beauteous flower when next we meet
The rest, is silence.
An honest tale speeds best being plainly told.
Report of fashions in proud Italy Whose manners still our tardy-apish nation Limps after in base imitation