Though it make the unskillful laugh, cannot but make the judicious grieve.

Stars, hide your fires; Let not light see my black and deep desires.

Shall I never see a bachelor of three score again?

I am a feather for each wind that blows

Love is the greatest of dreams, yet the worst of nightmares.

Now, God be praised, that to believing souls gives light in darkness, comfort in despair.

The moon of Rome, chaste as the icicle that's curded by the frost from purest snow.