Slow, slow, fresh fount, keep time with my salt tears; / Yet slower yet, O faintly, gentle springs.

If tears were painful, no one would cry.

I have betrayed myself with my own tongue; The case is altered

Good men are the stars, the planets of the ages wherein they live, and illustrate the times.

Drink to me only with thine eyes, And I will pledge with mine; Or leave a kiss but in the cup And I'll not look for wine.

Sweet meat must have sour sauce.