We Will Meet; And There

Virtue Itself Scapes Not Calumnious Strokes.

Gives Not The Hawthorn Bush A Sweeter Shade To Shepherds, Looking On Their Silly Sheep, Than Doth A Rich Embroider'd Canopy To Kings That Fear Their Subjects Treachery?

How Easy It Is For The Proper-false In Woman's Waxen Hearts To Set Their Forms!

Things Past Redress Are Now With Me Past Care

Ten Masts Make Not The Altitude Which Thou Hast Perpendicularly Fell. Thy Life's A Miracle.