Love laid his sleepless head on a thorny rose bed. Alas! The love of women! It is known to be a lovely and a fearful thing. Love me little, love me long. For love sincere refines upon the taste.
Come hither, sweet maids, there's a bridge below. If you would be loved, love and be lovable. I hate and I love. Why do I do so you perhaps ask. Could we forbear dispute, and practise love? We should agree as angels do above.
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