It is a sin to be a mocker.
And send him many years of sunshine days!
And some that smile have in their hearts, I fear, millions of mischiefs.
Sweet love! Sweet lines! Sweet life! Here is her hand, the agent of her heart; Here is her oath for love, her honour's pawn
Men shut their doors against a setting sun.
He uses his folly like a stalking-horse, and under the presentation of that he shoots his wit.