Thou Unfit For Any Place But Hell.

A Rarer Spirit Never Did Steer Humanity; But You Gods Will Give Us Some Faults To Make Us Men.

You Have Lost No Reputation At All, Unless You Repute Yourself Such A Loser.

Grief Fills The Room Up Of My Absent Child, Lies In His Bed, Walks Up And Down With Me, Puts On His Pretty Look, Repeats His Words, Remembers Me Of His Gracious Parts, Stuffs Out His Vacant Garments With His Form

What Can Be Happier Than For A Man, Conscious Of Virtuous Acts, And Content With Liberty, To Despise All Human Affairs?

The Gaudy, Blabbing, And Remorseful Day Is Crept Into The Bosom Of The Sea.