The man whom nature's self had made to mock herself, and truth to imitate.
Ah! when will this long weary day have end, And lende me leave to come unto my love? - Epithalamion
Greatest god below the sky.
He oft finds med'cine, who his griefe imparts; But double griefs afflict concealing harts, As raging flames who striveth to supresse.
The noblest mind the best contentment has
Vaine is the vaunt, and victory unjust, that more to mighty hands, then rightfull cause doth trust.