This bud of love, by summer's ripening breath,May prove a beauteous flower when next we meet.

Kindness in women, not their beauteous looks, shall win my love.

Farewell! God knows when we shall meet again.

O my love, my wife!
Death, that hath suck'd the honey of thy breath
Hath had no power yet upon thy beauty.

Full many a flower is born to blush unseen.

The world is but a word.Were it all yours to give it in a breath,How quickly were it gone!