No spring nor summer beauty hath such grace as I have seen in one autumnal face.
I have done one braver thing than all the Worthies did, and yet a braver thence doth spring, which is, to keep that hid.
Full nakedness! All my joys are due to thee, as souls unbodied, bodies unclothed must be, to taste whole joys.
Christ beats his drum, but he does not press men; Christ is served with voluntaries.
Can there be worse sickness, than to know that we are never well, nor can be so?
My love though silly is more brave.