People’s good deeds we write in water. The evil deeds are etched in brass.
I will instruct my sorrows to be proud; for grief is proud, and makes his owner stoop.
Shall I never see a bachelor of three score again?
Love thrives not in the heart that shadows dreadeth
Who is Silvia What is she, That all our swains commend her Holy, fair, and wise is she.
Why, all delights are vain; but that most vain, Which, with pain purchas'd, doth inherit pain.