And when I am forgotten, as I shall be, And asleep in dull cold marble, where no mention Of me must be heard of, say, I taught thee.

Nature, as it grows again toward earth, is fashioned for the journey, dull and heavy.

Beware of entrance to a quarrel, but, being in, bear t that th' opposed may beware of thee.

But love is blind and lovers cannot see

The man that hath no music in himself, Nor is not moved with concord of sweet sounds, is fit for treasons, stratagems and spoils.

If fortune torments me, hope contents me.

My only love sprung from my only hate.