“All that in this delightful garden grows should happy be and have immortal bliss.”

For since mine eyes your joyous sight did miss, my cheerful day is turned to cheerless night.

Sluggish idleness–the nurse of sin.

Yet is there one more cursed than they all, That canker-worm, that monster, jealousie, Which eats the heart and feeds upon the gall, Turning all love’s delight to misery, Through fear of losing his felicity.

For we by conquest, of our soveraine might,And by eternall doome of Fate’s decree,Have wonne the Empire of the Heavens bright.

Death is an equall doome To good and bad, the common In of rest.

Laws ought to be fashioned unto the manners and conditions of the people whom they are meant to benefit, and not imposed upon them according to the simple rule of right.

To be wise and eke to love, Is granted scarce to gods above.

For deeds to die, however nobly done, And thoughts of men to as themselves decay, But wise words taught in numbers for to run, Recorded by the Muses, live for ay.

Good is no good, but if it be spend, God giveth good for none other end.

Me seems the world is run quite out of square,From the first point of his appointed source,And being once amiss grows daily worse and worse.

In one consort there sat cruel revenge and rancorous despite, disloyal treason and heart-burning hate.

But Justice, though her dome she doe prolong, Yet at the last she will her owne cause right.

A sweet attractive kind of grace, A full assurance given by looks, Continual comfort in a face, The lineaments of Gospel books– I trow that countenance cannot lye Whose thoughts are legible in the eye.

The gentle minde by gentle deeds is knowne.

But angels come to lead frail minds to rest in chaste desires, on heavenly beauty bound. You frame my thoughts, and fashion me within; you stop my tongue, and teach my heart to speak.

Hard it is to teach the old horse to amble anew.

Showing wise kinds and blissful martyrs- while bankers wept and peasants starved.

Understand the place of love in a spiritual life. A powerful and blissful type of love has no conditions, no ownership and no people involved. Be free from fear. Be who you are. That is love.

It is the suffering of ambivalence: the murderous alternation between bitter resentment and raw-edged nerves, and blissful gratification and tenderness