My Crown Is Called Content, A Crown

Treason And Murder Ever Kept Together, As Two Yoke-devils Sworn To Either's Purpose, Working So Grossly In A Natural Cause That Admiration Did Not Whoop At Them; But Thou, 'gainst All Proportion, Didst Bring In Wonder To Wait On Treason And On Murder; And Whatsoever Cunning Fiend It Was That Wrought Upon Thee So Preposterously Hath Got The Voice In Hell For Excellence.

Some Cupid Kills With Arrows, Some With Traps.

For Where Thou Art, There Is The World Itself, With Every Several Pleasure In The World, And Where Thou Art Not, Desolation.

Old Fashions Please Me Best; I Am Not So Nice To Change True Rules For Odd Inventions.

That Is Not The Best Sermon Which Makes The Hearers Go Away Talking To One Another And Praising The Speaker, But Which Makes Them Go Away Thoughtful And Serious, And Hastening To Be Alone.