Go To Your Banquet Then, But Use

Some Asked Me Where The Rubies Grew, And Nothing I Did Say; But With My Finger Pointed To The Lips Of Julia.

It Is The End That Crowns Us, Not The Fight.

That Age Is Best Which Is The First When Youth And Blood Are Warmer.

A Sweet Disorder In The Dress Kindles In Clothes A Wantonness : A Lawn About The Shoulders Thrown Into A Fine Distraction : An Erring Lace Which Here And There Enthrals The Crimson Stomacher : A Cuff Neglectful, And Thereby Ribbons To Flow Confusedly : A Winning Wave (deserving Note) In The Tempestuous Petticoat : A Careless Shoe-string, In Whose Tie I See A Wild Civility : Do More Bewitch Me Than When Art Is Too Precise In Every Part.

Humble We Must Be, If To Heaven We Go; High Is The Roof There, But The Gate Is Low.