My nature is subdued to what it works in, like the dyer's hand.

Were beauty under twenty locks kept fast, yet love breaks through and picks them all at last.

If to do were as easy as to know what were good to do, chapels had been churches, and poor men’s cottages princes’ palaces. It is a good divine that follows his own instructions: I can easier teach twenty what were good to be done, than be one of the twenty to follow mine own teaching.

Our doubts are traitors and make us lose the good we oft might win by fearing to attempt.

The painful warrior famous for fight, After a thousand victories, once foil'd, Is from the books of honor razed quite, And all the rest forgot for which he toil'd

They told me I was everything. 'Tis a lie, I am not ague-proof.

So. Lie there, my art.