"Look when the clouds are blowing And all the winds are free: In fury of their going They fall upon the sea. But though the blast is frantic, And though the tempest raves, The deep immense Atlantic Is still beneath the waves."

"He hath the sor which no man heleth, The which is cleped lack of herte."

"For whan men wene best to have achieved, Ful ofte it is al newe to beginne: The werre hath no thing siker, thogh he winne."

"Bot for men sein, and soth it is, That who that al of wisdom writ It dulleth ofte a mannes wit To him that schal it aldai rede, For thilke cause, if that ye rede, I wolde go the middel weie And wryte a bok betwen the tweie, Somwhat of lust, somewhat of lore."

"But in proverbe I have herde say, That who that wel his werk beginneth, The rather a good end he winneth."

"It hath and schal ben everemor That love is maister wher he wile."

"For loves lawe is out of reule."

"If women could be fair and yet not fond, Or that their love were firm, not fickle still, I would not marvel that they make men bond By service long to purchase their good will; But when I see how frail those creatures are, I laugh that men forget themselves so far."

"My mind to me a kingdom is; Such perfect joy therein I find That it excels all other bliss That world affords or grows by kind. Though much I want which most men have, Yet still my mind forbids to crave."

"This Earl of Oxford, making of his low obeisance to Queen Elizabeth, happened to let a Fart, at which he was so abashed and ashamed that he went to Travel [for] 7 years. On his return the Queen welcomed him home, and said, 'My Lord, I had forgot the Fart'."

"So I the pleasant grape have pulled from the vine, And yet I languish in great thirst, while others drink the wine."

"I overtook, coming from Italy, In Germany, a great and famous Earl Of England; the most goodly fashioned man I ever saw: from head to foot in form Rare and most absolute; he had a face Like one of the most ancient honoured Romans From whence his noblest family was derived; He was besides of spirit passing great Valiant and learned, and liberal as the sun, Spoke and writ sweetly, or of learned subjects, Or of the discipline of public weals: And 'twas the Earl of Oxford."

"A valiant mind no deadly danger fears;"

"But what if it turns out, as it just possibly might, that William Shakespeare of Stratford was not the author of the plays ascribed to him? There is a theory, advanced by reputable scholars, seriously and, in my opinion, plausibly, that Shakespeare merely lent his name as a cover for the literary activities of another person, perhaps the Earl of Oxford. If, by some terrible chance, this theory should be proved, then straightway Stratford's tourist business would dwindle. It would become just one more, and honestly not one in the first ten, of England's picturesque small towns."

"A little apish hat, couched fast to the pate, like an oyster; French cambric ruffs, deep with a witness, starched to the purpose: Delicate in speech; quaint in array; conceited in all points; In courtly guiles, a passing singular odd man."

"The fiend with all his comrades Fell then from heaven above, Through as long as three nights and days, The angels from heaven into hell; And them all the Lord transformed to devils, Because they his deed and word Would not revere."

"I am in charity, my children, with all the servants of God."

"Now let us thank the Eternal Power: convinced That Heaven but tries our virtue by affliction,— That oft the cloud which wraps the present hour Serves but to brighten all our future days."

"And coxcombs vanquish Berkeley by a grin."

"Lady Moon, Lady Moon, where are you roving? Over the sea. Lady Moon, Lady Moon, whom are you loving? All that love me!"

"The sea! the sea! the open sea! The blue, the fresh, the ever free!"

"I ’m on the sea! I ’m on the sea! I am where I would ever be, With the blue above and the blue below, And silence wheresoe’er I go."

"They who have steeped their souls in prayer Can every anguish calmly bear."

"Heaven was not Heaven if Phaon was not there."

"A poet’s Mistress is a hallowed thing."

"I never was on the dull, tame shore, But I loved the great sea more and more."

"Mohammed’s truth lay in a holy Book, Christ’s in a sacred Life."

"I wandered by the brookside, I wandered by the mill; I could not hear the brook flow, The noisy wheel was still."

"A man’s best things are nearest him, Lie close about his feet."

"The beating of my own heart Was all the sound I heard."

"The hills of manhood wear a noble face When seen from far; The mist of light from which they take their grace Hides what they are."

"Great thoughts, great feelings came to them, Like instincts, unawares."

"Touch us gently, Time! Let us glide adown thy stream Gently,—as we sometimes glide Through a quiet dream."

"Oh glory, that we wrestle So valiantly with Time!"

"But on and up, where Nature’s heart Beats strong amid the hills."

"An Englishman, by name, William Birde for his skill. Which I should heve sett first, for soe it was my will, Whose greater skill and knowledge dothe excelle all at this tyme And far to strange countries abroade his skill dothe shyne; Famous men be abroad, and skilful in the arte I do confesse the fame and not from it starte; But in Ewroppe is none like to our Englishe man, Which dothe so farre exceede, as trulie I it scan As ye cannot finde out his equale in all thinges Throwghe out the worlde so wide, and so his fame now ringes. With fingers and with penne he hathe not now his peere; For in this worlde so wide is none can him come neere, The rarest man he is in musicks worthy arte That now on earthe doth liue: I speake it from my harte Or heere to fore hath been or after him shall come None suche I feare shall rise that may be calde his sonne."

"If we consider Byrd's versatility alone, and the fact that he produced work of the highest class in every field that he explored, it becomes abundantly clear that he did stand above all his contemporaries. Like Palestrina, he wrote magnificently for the Latin rites of the Church. Nor was he behind any of his contemporaries in his capacity for handling ingenious and complex contrapuntal devices such as were in vogue among the Church musicians of the sixteenth century. His contrapuntal skill was astonishing. Like Tallis, Tye, and Robert Whyte, he excelled in music for the English Church whether for the Latin or English rites. Like Marenzio, Wilbye, and Weelkes, he could write finely in the madrigalian style, not only when treating the severer subjects, where again he stands alone, but also in the lighter vein, as we shall see presently when dealing more closely with this branch of the subject. Like Bull, Gibbons, and Giles Farnaby, he wrote with exceptional fertility of invention for the keyed instruments of his day, yet here again he excelled the others; while for the viols he produced chamber-music which to-day amazes students of musical form when its date is borne in mind."

"They call William Byrd the English Palestrina; I shall not rest until Palestrina is called the Italian Byrd!"

"So long as I was in your sight I was your heart, your soul, your treasure; And evermore you sobb'd and sigh'd Burning in flames beyond all measure: —Three days endured your love to me, And it was lost in other three!"

"Sure you have made me passing glad That you your mind so soon removed, Before that I the leisure had To choose you for my best beloved"

"My loving Maister (never without reverence to be named of the musicians) M. Bird."

"Light was first Through the Lord's word Named day: Beauteous, bright creation!"

"For Motets, and Musicke of pietie and devotion, as well for the honour of our Nation, as the merit of the man, I prefer above all our Phoenix, M. William Byrd, whom in that kind, I know not whether any may equall. I am sure none excell, even by the judgement of France and Italy, who are very sparing in the commendation of strangers, in regard of that conceipt they hold of themselves. His Cantiones Sacrae, as also his Gradualia, are meer Angelicall and Divine; and being of himselfe naturally disposed to Gravity and Pietie, his veine is not so much for leight Madrigals or Canzonets, yet his Virginella, and some others in his first set, cannot be mended by the best Italian of them all."

"All the seasons run their race In this quiet resting place; Peach, and apricot, and fig Here will ripen, and grow big; Here is store and overplus,— More had not Alcinoüs!"

"In merest prudence men should teach […] That science ranks as monstrous things Two pairs of upper limbs; so wings— E'en angels' wings!—are fictions."

"... it may be interesting for an ear-witness to record that when Austin Dobson, after the publication of 'Vignettes in Rhyme,' was presented to Tennyson, that alarming vates inquired, in sepulchral tones, 'Are you a classic? Then become one! Read Horace every day of your life!' Dobson did not carry out this counsel quite to the letter, but with his customary docility in adopting good advice, he forthwith made a searching and prolonged study of the 'Odes' and 'Epistles,' a study the result of which upon his subsequent verse must be patent to the most careless observer, and may be traced upon his meticulous prose as well."

"Time goes, you say? Ah, no! Alas, Time stays, we go."

"The ladies of St. James’s! They’re painted to the eyes; Their white it stays forever Their red it never dies: But Phillida, my Phillida! Her colour comes and goes; It trembles to a lily,— It wavers to a rose."