You Abilities Are Too Infant-like For Doing

He Lives In Fame That Died In Virtue's Cause.

Under The Colour Of Commending Him I Have Access My Own Love To Prefer; But Silvia Is Too Fair, Too True, Too Holy, To Be Corrupted With My Worthless Gifts.

Ring The Alarum-bell! Blow, Wind! Come, Wrack! At Least We'll Die With Harness On Our Back.

For My Own Part, I Shall Be Glad To Learn Of Noble Men.

When Death Doth Close His Tender Dying Eyes.