You are an alchemist; make gold of that.
What, my dear Lady Disdain! Are you yet living?
All love's pleasure shall not match its woe.
Short summers lightly have a forward spring.
The stars govern our conditions.
No sooner met but they looked; no sooner looked but they loved; no sooner loved but they sighed; no sooner sighed but they asked one another the reason; no sooner knew the reason but they sought the remedy; and in these degrees have they made a pair of stairs to marriage...