Oh, she doth teach the torches to burn bright! It seems she hangs upon the cheek of night Like a rich jewel in an Ethiope’s ear, Beauty too rich for use, for earth too dear. So shows a snowy dove trooping with crows As yonder lady o'er her fellows shows. The measure done, I’ll watch her place of stand, And, touching hers, make blessèd my rude hand. Did my heart love till now? Forswear it, sight! For I ne'er saw true beauty till this night.

This most excellent canopy, the air, look you, this brave o-erhanging firmament, this majestical roof fretted with golden fire.

Good friend for Jesus sake forbeare, To digg the dust encloased heare! Blest be the man that spares thes stones, And curst be he that moves my bones.

There's rosemary and rue. These keep Seeming and savor all the winter long. Grace and remembrance be to you.

My crown is called content, a crown that seldom kings enjoy.

Like madness, is the glory of this life.

Words to deeds cold breath gives.