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A lily of a day <br>Is fairer far in May, <br>Although it fall and die that night, <br>It was the plant and flower of light. <br>In small proportions we just beauties see, <br>And in short measures life may perfect be.

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Follow a shadow, it still flies you, Seem to fly, it will pursue: So court a mistress, she denies you; Let her alone, she will court you. Say are not women truly, then, Styled but the shadows of us men?

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Give me a look, give me a face, That makes simplicity a grace Robes loosely flowing, hair as free Such sweet neglect more taketh me Than all the adulteries of art: They strike mine eyes, but not my heart.

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Forbear, you things<br>That stand upon the pinnacles of state,<br>To boast your slippery height! when you do fall,<br>You dash yourselves in pieces, ne’er to rise:<br>And he that lends you pity, is not wise.

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A new disease? I know not, new or old, but it may well be called poor mortals plague for, like a pestilence, it doth infect the houses of the brain till not a thought, or motion, in the mind, be free from the black poison of suspect.

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Books are faithful repositories, which may be awhile neglected or forgotten, but when they are opened again, will again impart their instruction.

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Words borrowed of Antiquity do lend a kind of Majesty to style, and are not without their delight sometimes. For they have the authority of years, and out of their intermission do win to themselves a kind of grace-like newness. But the eldest of the present, and newest of the past Language, is the best.

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Drink today, and drown all sorrow; You shall perhaps not do it tomorrow; Best, while you have it, use your breath; There is no drinking after death.