All thy vexations Were but my trials of thy love, and thou Hast strangely stood the test; here, afore heaven, I ratify this my rich gift.

Fortune reigns in gifts of the world.

I know a lady in Venice would have walked barefoot to Palestine for a touch of his nether lip

Thou shalt be free As mountain winds: but then exactly do All points of my command.

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.

Listen to many, speak to a few.

Spirits are not finely touched But to fine issues, nor Nature never lends The smallest scruple of her excellence But like a thrifty goddess she determines Herself the glory of a creditor,Both thanks and use.