Do not, as some ungracious pastors do, Show me the steep and thorny way to heaven; Whilst, like a puff'd and reckless libertine, Himself the primrose path of dalliance treads And recks not his own read.
I love you with so much of my heart that none is left to protest.
Twas never merry world Since lowly feigning was called compliment.
My friends were poor, but honest, so's my love.
Profit is a blessing, if it's not stolen.
But shall we wear these glories for a day? Or shall they last, and we rejoice in them?