The Moon, Like To A Silver Bow

By Being Seldom Seen, I Could Not Stir But Like A Comet I Was Wondered At.

That England, That Was Wont To Conquer Others, Hath Made A Shameful Conquest Of Itself.

This Most Excellent Canopy, The Air, Look You, This Brave O-erhanging Firmament, This Majestical Roof Fretted With Golden Fire.

Is It Possible That Love Should Of A Sudden Take Such A Hold?

Faint Heart Never Won Fair Maid.