Quote #17

Gather ye rosebuds while ye may, Old Time is still a-flying, And this same flower that smiles today Tomorrow will be dying. The glorious Lamp of Heaven, the Sun, The higher he's a-getting The sooner will his race be run, And nearer he's to setting.

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  4. Thus woe succeeds a woe, as wave a wave.
  5. You say to me-wards your affection's strong; Pray love me little, so you love me long.
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