In thee thy mother dies, our household's name, My death's revenge, thy youth, and England's fame.

Opinion crowns with an imperial voice.

Can I go forward when my heart is here? Turn back, dull earth, and find thy centre out.

Mine eyes are full of tears, my heart of grief.

Fruits that blossom first will first be ripe.

For I can raise no money by vile means.

We cannot conceive of matter being formed of nothing, since things require a seed to start from... Therefore there is not anything which returns to nothing, but all things return dissolved into their elements.