And whispering, "I will ne'er consent,"—consented.
Don Juan, Canto I. LORD BYRON.
The fly that sips treacle is lost in the sweets.
Beggar's Opera, Act ii. Sc. 2. J. GAY.
There lives within the very flame of love
A kind of wick or snuff that will abate it.
Hamlet, Act iv. Sc. 7. SHAKESPEARE.
My only books
Were woman's looks,
And folly's all they've taught me.
The time I've lost in wooing. T. MOORE.
Then fly betimes, for only they
Conquer Love that run away.
Conquest by Flight. T. CAREW.
LOVE'S CAUTIONS.
The rose that all are praising
Is not the rose for me;
Too many eyes are gazing
Upon the costly tree;
But there's a rose in yonder glen
That shuns the gaze of other men,
For me its blossom raising,—
O, that's the rose for me.
The rose that all are praising. T.H. BAYLY.
But the fruit that can fall without shaking,
Indeed is too mellow for me.
The Answer. LADY MARY W. MONTAGU.
Love in a hut, with water and a crust,
Is—Lord forgive us!—cinders, ashes, dust.
Lamia. J. KEATS.
The cold in clime are cold in blood,
Their love can scarce deserve the name.
The Giaour. LORD BYRON.