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Ah cruel Love! that men alike dost slay
Dispensing now thy honey, now thy gall.
In all thou giv'st we equal danger see,
Be it thy medicine or thy malady.
Perhaps if only once you did enjoy
The thousandth part of all the happiness
A heart beloved enjoys, returning love,
Repentant, you would surely sighing say,
"All time is truly lost and gone
Which is not spent in serving love."
Love in the end grows old,
Without these arts, and spiritless and slow,
Like courser that ne'er shows his highest speed,
Unless some rival follow or precede.
You, Honor, first you hid
The fount of love's delight,
Denying drafts to slake the lover's thirst.
Lovers she hated, though she loved their love.
O subtle love! a thousand wiles thou hast, by humble suit, by service, or by hire, to win a maiden's hold,--a thing soon done, for nature framed all women to be won.
The gift of nature, love or kindly skies,
Her negligence is nought but artifice.
Pluck we the rose of love: with love we'll burn,
When loving we may loved be in return.
Never from a man of sense love takes advice.
Oh marvel! Love, though born but yesterday,
Spreads wide his wings and triumphs in the fray.
Quote of the day
If your only goal is to become rich, you will never achieve it.
John D. Rockefeller
March 11, 1544
April 25, 1595
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