Where shame is, there is also fear.
Moping melancholy And moon-struck madness.
Ladies, whose bright eyes Rain influence, and judge the prize.
Nothing is here for tears, nothing to wail Or knock the breast, no weakness, no contempt, Dispraise, or blame,-nothing but well and fair, And what may quiet us in a death so noble.
And join with thee calm Peace and Quiet, Spare Fast, that oft with gods doth diet.
Every cloud has a silver lining.
Here the great art lies, to discern in what the law is to be to restraint and punishment, and in what things persuasion only is to work.
And ever against eating cares Lap me in soft Lydian airs, Married to immortal verse.
I did but prompt the age to quit their clogs By the known rules of ancient liberty, When straight a barbarous noise environs me Of owls and cuckoos, asses, apes and dogs.
Can any mortal mixture of earth’s mould Breathe such divine enchanting ravishment?
And storied windows richly dight, Casting a dim religious light.
The starry cope Of heaven.
The strongest and the fiercest spirit That fought in heaven, now fiercer by despair.
Just deeds are the best answer to injurious words.
Our reason is our law.
Virtue that wavers is not virtue.
Beauty is God’s handwriting-a wayside sacrament.
My sentence is for open war.
Courtesy which oft is found in lowly sheds, with smoky rafters, than in tapestry halls and courts of princes, where it first was named.
Evil on itself shall back recoil.