Some innocents 'scape not the thunderbolt.

And ruin`d love when it is built anew, grows fairer than at first, more strong, far greater

Poor and content is rich, and rich enough.

In thy youth wast as true a lover, As ever sighed upon a midnight pillow

Cease thy counsel, for thy words fall into my ears as priceless as water into a seive.

His steeds to water at those springs On chaliced flowers that lies; And winking Mary-buds begin To ope their golden eyes: With every thing that pretty is, My lady sweet, arise.

A good heart is the sun and the moon; or, rather, the sun and not the moon, for it shines bright and never changes.