That thou remember them, some claim as debt; I think it mercy, if thou wilt forget.
If I dream I have you, I have you, for all our joys are but fantastical.
Busy old fool, unruly Sun, why dost thou thus through windows and through curtains call on us? Must to thy motions lovers seasons run?
Great sins are great possessions; but levities and vanities possess us too; and men had rather part with Christ than with any possession.
'Tis the year's midnight, and it is the day's.
Love's mysteries in souls do grow, But yet the body is his book.