I pray you bear me henceforth from the noise and rumour of the field, where I may think the remnant of my thoughts in peace, and part of this body and my soul with contemplation and devout desires.

I was a coward on instinct.

An habitation giddy and unsure Hath he that buildeth on the vulgar heart.

I dote on his very absence.

Come the three corners of the world in arms, and we shall shock them.

When most I wink, then do my eyes best see

Sweet flowers are slow and weeds make haste.