Alas, How Love Can Trifle With Itself!

My Dear, Dear Lord, The Purest Treasure Mortal Times Afford Is Spotless Reputation; That Away Men Are But Gilded Loan Or Painted Clay... Mine Honor Is My Life; Both Grow In One; Take Honor From Me, And My Life Is Done.

Were Beauty Under Twenty Locks Kept Fast, Yet Love Breaks Through And Picks Them All At Last.

The More Pity, That Fools May Not Speak Wisely What Wise Men Do Foolishly.

Downy Sleep, Death's Counterfeit.

So May He Rest, His Faults Lie Gently On Him!