I was not born under a rhyming planet, nor I cannot woo in festival terms.
She wish'd she had not heard it, yet she wish'd
That heaven had made her such a man: she thank'd me.
And bade me, if I had a friend that lov'd her,
I should but teach him how to tell my story
And that would woo her.
Was ever woman in this humour woo'd?
Was ever woman in this humour won?
O gentle Romeo,
If thou dost love, pronounce it faithfully.
Or if thou think'st I am too quickly won,
I'll frown and be perverse and say thee nay.
So thou wilt woo: but else, not for the world.
She is a woman, therefore may be woo'd;
She is a woman, therefore may be won.
Women are angels, wooing:
Things won are done, joy's soul lies in the doing:
That she belov'd knows nought that knows not
this:
Men prize the thing ungam'd more than it is.
Troilus and Cressida. Act I. Sc. 2. L. 312.
Win her with gifts, if she respect not words;
Dumb jewels often in their silent kind
More than quick words do move a woman's mind.
Two Gentlemen of Verona. Act III. Sc. 1. L.
89.
| author =
| work =
| place =
| note =
| topic = Wooing
| page = 902
}}
{{Hoyt quote
| num =
| text = <poem>Never give her o'er;
For scorn at first makes after-love the more.
If she do frown, 'tis not in hate of you,
But rather to beget more love in you;
If she do chide, 'tis not to have you gone,
For why, the fools are mad if left alone.
Two Gentlemen of Verona. Act III. Sc. 1. L.
94.
Take no repulse, whatever she doth say;
For, "get you gone, "she doth not mean, "away."
Flatter and praise, commend, extol their graces;
Though ne'er so black, say they have angels'
faces.
That man that hath a tongue, I say, is no man,
If with his tongue he cannot win a woman.
Two Gentlemen of Verona. Act III. Sc. 1. L.
.
Say that upon the altar of her beauty
You sacrifice your tears, your sighs, your heart:
Write till your ink be dry and with your tears
Moist it again, and frame some feeling line,
That may discover such integrity.
Two Gentlemen of Verona. Act III. Sc. 2. L.
73.
| author =
| work =
| place =
| note =
| topic = Wooing
| page = 902
}}
{{Hoyt quote
| num =
| text = <poem>Bring therefore all the forces that ye may,
And lay incessant battery to her heart;
Playnts, prayers, vowes, truth, sorrow, and dismay;
Those engins can the proudest love convert:
And, if those fayle, fall down and dy before
her;
So dying live, and living do adore her.
Spenser—AmorettiandEpithalamion. Sonnet
XIV.
Full little knowest thou that hast not tried,
What hell it is in suing long to bide:
To loose good dayes, that might be better spent;
To waste long nights in pensive discontent;
To speed to-day, to be put back to-morrow;
To feed on hope, to pine with feare and sorrow.
Spenser—Mother Hubberd's Tale. L. 895.
Quiet, Robin, quiet!
You lovers are such clumsy summer-flies,
Forever buzzing at your lady's face.
| author = Tennyson
| work = The Foresters. Act rV. Sc. 1.
When Venus said "Spell no for me"
"N-O," Dan Cupid wrote with glee,
And smiled at his success:
"Ah, child," said Venus, laughing low,
"We women do not spell it so,
We spell it Y-E-S."
Words of truth and soberness.
Words, as a Tartar's bow, do shoot back upon
the understanding of the wisest, and mightily
entangle and pervert the judgment.
Bacon—Advancement of Learning.
| seealso = (See also {{sc|Carleton, Dillon, Eliot, Heine,
Menander)
Words of affection, howsoe'er express'd,
The latest spoken still are deem'd the best.
Joanna Batt,t,te—Address to Miss Agnes
BaiUie on her Birthday. L. 126.
"lis a word that's quickly spoken,
Which being restrained, a heart is broken.
| author = Beaumont and Fletcher
| work = The Spanish
Curate. Act II. Sc. 5. Song.
'Twas he that ranged the words at random flung,
Pierced the fair pearls and them together strung.
| author = Bidpai
| cog = (Pilpay)
| work = Anvar-i Suhaili.
| note = Eastwick's trans.
| seealso = (See also Jones)
| topic = Words
| page = 902
}}
{{Hoyt quote
| num =
| text = <poem>You have only, when before your glass, to
keep pronouncing to yourself liimim-pimini; the
lips cannot help taking their plie.
General Burgoyne—The Heiress. Act III.
Sc.2.
<poem>A very great part of the mischiefs that vex
this world arises from words. Burke—Letter. (About 1795)
<poem>Boys flying kites haul in their white winged birds;
You can't do that way when you're flying words. "Careful with fire," is good advice we know "Careful with words," is ten times doubly so. Thoughts unexpressed may sometimes fall back dead; But God Himself can't kill them when they're said.
