No spring nor summer beauty hath such grace as I have seen in one autumnal face.
No spring nor summer beauty hath such grace As I have seen in one autumnal face.
Reason is our soul's left hand, Faith her right.
More than kisses, letters mingle souls.
Sleep is pain's easiest salve, and doth fulfill all the offices of death, except to kill
All our life is but a going out to the place of execution, to death