It often falls, in course of common life, that right long time is overborne of wrong.
What more felicity can fall to creature, than to enjoy delight with liberty?
Foul jealousy! that turnest love divine to joyless dread, and makest the loving heart with hateful thoughts to languish and to pine.
All that in this delightful garden grows should happy be and have immortal bliss.
The man whom nature's self had made to mock herself, and truth to imitate.
Gold all is not that doth golden seem.