For precious friends hid in death's dateless night.
Then imitate the action of the tiger; stiffen the sinews, summon up the blood.
Our purses shall be proud, our garments poor; for 'tis the mind that makes the body rich
You abilities are too infant-like for doing much alone.
Beauty's a doubtful good, a glass, a flower, Lost, faded, broken, dead within an hour; And beauty, blemish'd once, for ever's lost, In spite of physic, painting, pain, and cost.
God mark thee to His grace! Thou was the prettiest babe that e'er I nursed. And might I live to see thee married once, I have my wish.