“Ah for pittie, wil ranke Winters rage,These bitter blasts neuer ginne tasswage?The keene cold blowes throug my beaten hyde,All as I were through the body gryde.My ragged rontes all shiver and shake,As doen high Towers in an earthquake:They wont in the wind wagge their wrigle tailes,Perke as Peacock: but nowe it auales.”

“Men call you fayre, and you doe credit it,For that your self ye daily such doe see:But the trew fayre, that is the gentle wit,And vertuous mind, is much more praysd of me.For all the rest, how ever fayre it be,Shall turne to nought and loose that glorious hew:But onely that is permanent and freeFrom frayle corruption, that doth flesh ensew.That is true beautie: that doth argue youTo be divine and borne of heavenly seed:Deriv'd from that fayre Spirit, from whom al trueAnd perfect beauty did at first proceed.He onely fayre, and what he fayre hath made,All other fayre lyke flowres untymely fade.”

“Her angel's face, As the great eye of heaven shined bright, And made a sunshine in the shady place.”

“The poets' scrolls will outlive the monuments of stone. Genius survives all else is claimed by death. ”

“Sleep after toil, port after stormy seas, Ease after war, death after life does greatly please.”

“It is the mind that maketh good of ill that maketh wretch or happy rich or poor.”

“I was promised on a time To have reason for my rhyme From that time unto this season I received nor rhyme nor reason.”

“The poet's scrolls will outlive the monuments of stone. The Genius survives all else is claimed by death.”

“I hate the day, because it lendeth lightTo see all things, but not my love to see.”

“One day I wrote her name upon the strand,But came the waves and washèd it away:Again I wrote it with a second hand,But came the tide, and made my pains his prey.”

“Why then should witless man so much misweeneThat nothing is but that which he hath seene?”