For truth has such a face and such a mien, as to be loved needs only to be seen.

The glorious lamp of heaven, the radiant sun, Is Nature's eye.

But Shakespeare's magic could not copied be; Within that circle none durst walk but he.

When beauty fires the blood, how love exalts the mind!

Few know the use of life before 'tis past.

The blushing beauties of a modest maid.

Let cheerfulness on happy fortune wait.