What man art thou that, thus bescreened in night, So stumblest on my counsel? *Who are you? Why do you hide in the darkness and listen to my private thoughts?*
Past all shame, so past all truth.
So we'll live, And pray, and sing, and tell old tales, and laugh at gilded butterflies.
I wish my horse had the speed of your tongue.
Men have died from time to time, and worms have eaten them, but not for love.
Good hay, sweet hay, hath no fellow.