The Psalms foretell what I, what any shall do and suffer and say.

I am a little world made cunningly.

There is in every miracle a silent chiding of the world, and a tacit reprehension of them who require, or who need miracles.

Love was as subtly caught, as a disease; But being got it is a treasure sweet, which to defend is harder than to get: And ought not be profaned on either part, for though 'Tis got by chance, 'Tis kept by art.

Wicked is not much worse than indiscreet.

All whom war, dearth, age, agues, tyrannies, Despair, law, chance, hath slain.

So in a voice, so in a shapeless flame, Angels affect us often.