As Chaste As Unsunned Snow.

Oh, She Doth Teach The Torches To Burn Bright! It Seems She Hangs Upon The Cheek Of Night Like A Rich Jewel In An Ethiope’s Ear, Beauty Too Rich For Use, For Earth Too Dear. So Shows A Snowy Dove Trooping With Crows As Yonder Lady O'er Her Fellows Shows. The Measure Done, I’ll Watch Her Place Of Stand, And, Touching Hers, Make Blessèd My Rude Hand. Did My Heart Love Till Now? Forswear It, Sight! For I Ne'er Saw True Beauty Till This Night.

And Flights Of Angels Sing Thee To Thy Rest!

He Is Not Worthy Of The Honey-comb, That Shuns The Hives Because The Bees Have Stings.

More Fools Know Jack Fool Than Jack Fool Knows.

A Young Woman In Love Always Looks Like Patience On A Monument Smiling At Grief