Thou art as tyrannous, so as thou art, As those whose beauties proudly make them cruel; For well thou know'st to my dear doting heart Thou art the fairest and most precious jewel.

Tis but a base, ignoble mind That mounts no higher than a bird can soar.

The sight of lovers feedeth those in love.

O wretched state! o bosom black as death!

A hand as fruitful as the land that feeds us; His dew falls everywhere.

Truth hath a quiet breast.

Love is familiar. Love is a devil. There is no evil angel but Love." -