Let's meet and either do or die.

Love's tongue is in his eyes.

Man is his own star; and the soul that can
Render an honest and a perfect man
Commands all light, all influence, all fate./Nothing to him falls early, or too late./Our acts our angels are, or good or ill,
Our fatal shadows that walk by us still.

Love is like linen often changed, the sweeter.

Weep no more, nor sigh, nor groan,
Sorrow calls no time that 's gone;
Violets plucked, the sweetest rain
Makes not fresh nor grow again.