"No man inveigh against the wither’d flower, But chide rough winter that the flower hath kill’d."

"And that deep torture may be called a hell, When more is felt than one hath power to tell."

"Cloud-kissing Ilion."

"His beard, all silver white, Wagg'd up and down."

"Why should the private pleasure of some one Become the public plague of many moe? Let sin, alone committed, light alo…"

"The two poems of Venus and Adonis and of Tarquin and Lucrece appear to us like a couple of ice-houses. They are about…"

"Into the chamber wickedly he stalks And gazeth on her yet unstainèd bed."

"Her lily hand her rosy cheek lies under, Cozening the pillow of a lawful kiss; Who, therefore angry, seems to part in…"

"Pure Chastity is rifled of her store, And Lust, the thief, far poorer than before."

"What I have done is yours, what I have to do is yours, being part in all I have devoted yours."