There is some soul of goodness in things evil, Would men observingly distill it out.

Un-thread the rude eye of rebellion, and welcome home again discarded faith.

The ostentation of our love, which, left unshown, is often left unloved.

Affection, mistress of passion, sways it to the mood of what it likes or loathes.

Here come the lovers, full of joy and mirth.— Joy, gentle friends! joy and fresh days of love Accompany your hearts!

But we have reason to cool our raging motions, our carnal stings, our unbitted lusts; whereof I take this that you call love to bea sect or scion.... It is merely a lust of the blood and a permission of the will.

Knowing I lov'd my books, he furnish'd me From mine own library with volumes that I prize above my dukedom.