And when love speaks, the voice of all the gods makes Heaven drowsy with the harmony.

Thus have I, Wall, my part discharged so; And, being done, thus Wall away doth go.

Thanks, sir; all the rest is mute.

At Christmas, I no more desire a rose.

When to the sessions of sweet silent thought I summon up remembrance of things past, I sigh the lack of many a thing I sought.

Though I look old, yet I am strong and lusty; for in my youth I never did apply hot and rebellious liquors in my blood; and did not, with unbashful forehead, woo the means of weakness and debility: therefore my age is as a lusty winter, frosty but kindly.

I do beseech you- Though I perchance am vicious in my guess , that your wisdom yet From one that so imperfectly conjects Would take no notice, nor build yourself a trouble Out of his scattering and unsure observance.