The love that follows us sometime is our trouble, which still we thank as love.
We bring forth weeds when our quick minds lie still.
Love hath made thee a tame snake
We are oft to blame in this, - 'tis too much proved, - that with devotion's visage, and pios action we do sugar o'er the devil himself.
Truth needs no color; beauty, no pencil.
Vile worm, thou wast o'erlook'd even in thy birth.