The sun with one eye vieweth all the world.

He capers, he dances, he has eyes of youth, he writes verses, he speaks holiday, he smells April and May.

Evermore thanks, the exchequer of the poor

Is not birth, beauty, good shape, discourse, Manhood, learning, gentleness, virtue, youth, liberality, and such like, the spice and salt that season a man

Who is it that can tell me who I am?

Love goes toward love.

Awake, dear heart, awake. Thou hast slept well. Awake.