Now morn, her rosy steps in th' eastern clime Advancing, sow'd the earth with orient pearl, When Adam wak'd, so custom'd; for his sleep Was aery light, from pure digestion bred.

Tears such as angels weep.

The best apology against false accusers is silence.

How charming is divine philosophy! Not harsh and crabbed, as dull fools suppose, But musical as is Apollo's lute, And a perpetual feast of nectar'd sweets Where no crude surfeit reigns

So dear I love him, that with him, all deaths I could endure, without him, live no life.

All hope is lost of my reception into grace; what worse? For where no hope is left, is left no fear.

God has set labor and rest, as day and night to men successive.