A high hope for a low heaven: God grant us patience!

This music crept by me upon the waters, Allaying both their fury and my passion With its sweet air: thence I have follow’d it.

There's hope a great man's memory may outlive his life half a year.

To saucy doubts and fears.

The wildest hath not such a heart as you. Run when you will, the story shall be changed: Apollo flies, and Daphne holds the chase; The dove pursues the griffin; the mild hind Makes speed to catch the tiger; bootless speed, When cowardice pursues and valour flies.

Love's stories written in love's richest books. To fan the moonbeams from his sleeping eyes.

All that glitters is not gold; Often have you heard that told: Many a man his life has sold But my outside to behold: Gilded tombs do worms enfold Had you been as wise as bold, Your in limbs, in judgment old, Your answer had not been in'scroll'd Fare you well: your suit is cold.' Cold, indeed, and labour lost: Then, farewell, heat and welcome, frost!