Sweet, silent rhetoric of persuading eyes, Dumb eloquence, whose power doth move the blood More than the words or wisdom of the wise. - Samuel Daniel

And you shall find the greatest enemy
A man can have is his prosperity.

Love is a sickness full of woes, All remedies refusing;
A plant that with most cutting grows, Most barren with best using. Why so?
More we enjoy it, more it dies;
If not enjoy’d, it sighing cries— Heigh ho!Love is a torment of the mind, A tempest everlasting;
And Jove hath made it of a kind Not well, nor full nor fasting. Why so?
More we enjoy it, &c.

And sport, sweet maid, in season of these years,
And learn to gather flowers before they wither