Filled with her love, may I be rather grown Mad with much heart, than idiot with none.

One short sleep past, we wake eternally, And Death shall be no more; Death, thou shalt die.

He that desires to print a book, should much more desire, to be a book.

Sweetest love, I do not go, For weariness of thee, Nor in hope the world can show A fitter love for me; But since that I Must die at last, 'tis best, To use my self in jest Thus by feign'd deaths to die.

I call not that virginity a virtue, which resideth onely in the bodies integrity; much less if it be with a purpose of perpetually keeping it: for then it is a most inhumane vice. - But I call that Virginity a virtue which is willing and desirous to yield it self upon honest and lawfull terms, when just reason requireth; and until then, is kept with a modest chastity of body and mind.

Whilst my physicians by their love are grown Cosmographers, and I their map, who lie Flat on this bed.

Other men's crosses are not my crosses.