Win her with gifts, if she respect not words ;
Dumb jewels often, in their silent kind,
More than quiet words, do move a woman's mind.

Shakespeare

(Two Gentlemen of Verona).

Young wives, like changing winds, their power display
By shifting points and varying day by day.

Crabbe.
June 23.
If mine eyes do e'er declare
They've seen a second thing that's fair,
If my taste do ever meet,
After thy kiss, with aught that's sweet,
May I as worthless seem to thee
As all but thou appear to me.

Cowley. Then follow my example, and ratify the agreement by a hearty conjugal embrace. I will give the word of command. Make ready! Present! Fire !

7. Buckstone. June 24.

A happy man and kind
Who finds his wife is all he wish'd to find
A mild, good man, who, if he nothing sees,
Will suffer nothing to disturb his ease.

Crabbe.

She's all my fancy painted her,
She's lovely, she's divine.

William Mee.

June 23.

June 24.

She's fresh as the mornin', the fairest in May,
She's sweet as the ev'nin' amang the new hay,
As blithe and as artless's the lamb on the lea,
An' dear to my heart as the light o' my e'e.

Scotch Song Nothing but mirth can conquer fortune's spite, No sky is heavy if the heart be light.

Churchill — June 26.

That clouded silk becomes you much,
I wonder how you meet with such ;
And you've a charming taste in dress-
What might it cost you, madam? Guess !

Lloyd.
Who would bear the dull unsocial hours
Spent by unmarried men-cheer'd by no smile-
To sit like hermit at a lonely board
In silence ?

Pope. June 27.

Spare her, immortals, spare,

Till all our days are done;
Your heav'n is full of angel forms,
Mine holds but one.

W. Sawyer.
My love is like the sun

That in the sky doth run,
For ever so constant and true.

Scotch Song.

She has wit, and song, and sense,
Mirth, and sport, and eloquence;
She has smiles of ecstasy,
Grace and beauty's treasury

M. Zrinyi, trans. by Sir 7. Bowring.

He hath great care to please his wife.

Shakespeare

(The Comedy of Errors). June 29.

Ah! when I am wearied with working all day,

To thee, my delight, in the evening I come; No matter what beauties I saw in my way, They were but my visits, but thou art my home.

Prior.

Love-what a volume in a word,
An ocean in a tear !

Tupper.
June 30.
Tcach us all the enchanting arts
Of winning and of keeping hearts;
Teach us, dear Doctor, if you can,
To humble that proud creature-Man!

Pope.

You know That body and soul have each one life, but one, And here's my love, here, living, at your feet.

R. Browning.