Things Are Often Spoke And

Good Morrow, 'tis Saint Valentine's Day, All In The Morn Betime, And I A Maid At Your Window, To Be Your Valentine.

Women Are Angels, Wooing: Things Won Are Done; Joy's Soul Lies In The Doing: That She Beloved Knows Naught, That Knows Not This-- Men Prize The Thing Ungained More Than It Is.

And When Love Speaks, The Voice Of All The Gods Makes Heaven Drowsy With The Harmony.

O Death, Made Proud With Pure And Princely Beauty!

If You Be King, Why Should Not I Succeed?