I plucked a honeysuckle where The hedge on high is quick with thorn, And climbing for the prize, was torn, And fouled my feet in quag-water; And by the thorns and by the wind The blossom that I took was thinnd, And yet I found it sweet and fair. D. G. RossettiThe Honeysuckle.
And bid her steal into the pleached bower, Where honeysuckles, ripend by the sun, Forbid the sun to enter, like favorites, Made proud by princes, that advance their pride Against that power that bred it. Much Ado About Nothing. Act III. Sc. 1. L. 7.