Confusion Now Hath Made His Masterpiece.

It Is The Mind That Makes The Body Rich; And As The Sun Breaks Through The Darkest Clouds, So Honor Peereth In The Meanest Habit.

All Is Well Ended If This Suit Be Won. That You Express Content; Which We Will Pay, With Strife To Please You, Day Exceeding Day.

I Have Not Slept. Between The Acting Of A Dreadful Thing And The First Motion, All The Interim Is Like A Phantasma, Or A Hideous Dream: The Genius And The Mortal Instruments Are Then In Council; And The State Of Man, Like To A Little Kingdom, Suffers Then The Nature Of An Insurrection.

Love's Fire Heats Water, Water Cools Not Love.

But Earthlier Happy Is The Rose Distill'd Than That Which Withering On The Virgin Thorn Grows, Lives, And Dies In Single Blessedness.