These are the forgeries of jealousy; And never, since the middle summer's spring, Met we on hill, in dale, forest, or mead, By paved fountain or by rushy brook, Or in the beached margent of the sea, To dance our ringlets to the whistling wind, But with thy brawls thou hast disturbed our sport.

As soon go kindle fire with snow, as seek to quench the fire of love with words.

O, how full of briers is this working-day world!

Dream in light years, challenge miles, walk step by step

Do not banish reason for inequality; but let your reason serve to make the truth appear where it seems hid, and hide the false seems true.

We are advertis'd by our loving friends.

For by his face straight shall you know his heart.