Well, God's above all; and there be souls must be saved, and there be souls must not be saved.

Hanging and wiving goes by destiny.

Thou art as wise as thou art beautiful

A violet in the youth of primy nature, Forward, not permanent--sweet, not lasting; The perfume and suppliance of a minute; No more.

Glory grows guilty of detested crimes.

Oh, thou did'st then ne'er love so heartily. If thou rememb'rest not the slightest folly That ever love did make thee run inot, Thou has not loved. Of if thou has't not sat as I do now, Wearying they hearer in thy mistress's praise, Thou has not loved. Of if thou hast not broke from company Abruptly, as my passion now makes me, Thou has not loved. (Silvius)

I have unclasp'd to thee the book even of my secret soul.